


The Light of the Stars

by idreamtofreality



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: High School AU, I forgot how to tag, Jim thinks Spock and Bones are together but i Promise that doesnt last long, M/M, Not a slow burn you get right to the pain, One chapter will be posted every day, Spock is trying his best to beat Jim at chess but he, Theres a lot of suffering but theres gonna be a happy ending, Y'all are gonna suffer lol, eventually, he cant, i guess?, ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 60,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamtofreality/pseuds/idreamtofreality
Summary: “What about you? Do you do anything for pleasure?”Spock looks at Jim, but the other boy does not do the same. He only continues to look up at the sky, a small smile on his face. “No.”“Really?” Jim moves his gaze down now, toward Spock. The glint of starlight in his eyes makes a foolish thought flit through Spock’s head: There is a universe in that boy.-They meet each other online, through a chess game. Spock has been studying chess for ages, but somehow Jim has him beat every time.Then they meet in real life. Jim is all emotion, and Spock is all logic, but somehow they fit each other. There's no question about that.But Spock is only here for two weeks, on a diplomatic meeting with his father. At the end of those two weeks, he has to go home. He has to leave Jim behind.So the real question is, will Spock come back?  For my pal, my love, my t'hy'la





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idenunderscore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idenunderscore/gifts).



> Like I said in the tags, I'm going to be posting a chapter every day, and each chapter will take up a single day. Some will be longer than others. There will be suffering.

Spock _knows_ he’s good at chess. It is this that is most frustrating about this entire situation--he is _good_ at chess and even the computer can’t beat him but this--this _ingrate_ \--is killing his streak.

Two minutes into their fifth game and Spock finally figures out what he can do to beat his new nemesis; checkmate in four moves. There’s no _way_ they can escape this move--

His opponent moves a pawn and Spock just explodes.

“Why would you make that move? That makes _no sense_!”

The door creaks open and Amanda pokes her head in. “Everything okay?”

“No! I am playing chess and this person’s strategy completely baffles me! If they moved this rook they could have taken my queen but they just _moved_ a _pawn_!”

Amanda looks amused. “Maybe that’s their strategy.”

“It makes little sense!”

“Well, have they won?”

Slowly Spock absorbs her question. “You suggest their strategy is to have… no strategy at all.” Then he shakes his head. “That is an illogical approach.”

“Is it? They’ve won, haven’t they?”

Spock crosses his arms. “Illogical,” he says again. Amanda smiles.

“Think about it.”

Then she’s gone and Spock is returning to the computer, still glowering. He moves his hand toward his mouse, about to send his knight to its death, when the chat box pops up.

<Finally give up?>

This sends Spock into another rage for a good few minutes.

<Just savoring the moment> he types at last. This is the first time he has conversed with his nemesis, and he finds himself carefully scanning the messages for any hint as to how to defeat them.

< u have yet to beat me & u never will>

And then: <i’m a chess GOD>

“Argh!” Spock picks up his mouse and throws it. The noise of its impact against the wall brings Sarek. As always, he is calm and collected as he regards his son.

“Spock,” he says coolly. Spock sinks back into his chair. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Chess.”

One eyebrow raises. Spock is familiar with the gesture, as he had inherited it when he was but a child. It can convey many things, but in this situation it means ‘continue’, or, more appropriately: ‘elaborate’.

“My opponent,” says Spock, composing himself, “Is being extraordinarily difficult.”

“Difficult,” Sarek repeats, again with the raised eyebrow.

“I… struggle to comprehend the strategy in which they partake. Mother suggests their strategy is to have no strategy at all, but I fail to understand the logic behind taking such action.”

Sarek’s face doesn’t change, but he does come closer to examine the board. “You know this.”

“Yes,” Spock says, “But, should I take the logical approach, I will fail. My opponent never takes the logical approach. We are… incompatible players.”

“There is no such thing.”

“Baiting does not work on them, and they seldom notice traps, and therefore never fall into them. I offered my queen, and they moved a pawn.”

“They are past your strategy, then. So, too, must you surpass yourself, if you seek to defeat them.”

“I am meant to outplay… myself?”

“Your greatest opponent has always been you Spock. This is simply an opportunity to expand and explore your adaptability.”

Sarek leaves and Spock finally makes his move.

His opponent has him beat in three.


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet: James T Kirk, human disaster

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Arms wrap around Spock’s shoulders. “You’re grouchier than normal.”

“I am not 'grouchy,' Nyota.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a seat on the bench next to him. “You totally are. Was the weekend bad to you?”

“‘The weekend’ refers to a collection of days--a concept created by Henry Ford when he sought to improve the market--”

“Spock,” she interrupts. “What’s your point?”

“Weekends can’t be bad to anything or anybody. They are not sentient. They are not even accepted as concepts in many countries.”

Nyota takes a deep, deep breath. “Okay,” she says. “Did something happen over the weekend to spoil your mood?”

Spock scowls. “Chess.”

“That sounds ominous.” Nyota pats his leg. “You gonna be okay?”

“I will return to my typical mood, given time.”

“That’s good.” She looks sympathetic. “You reprogram your computer to make it tougher?”

“My computer is at its most difficult point, as long as I program it. The result I can get is a draw.”

“So?”

“So I started a game against an online opponent.”

She just looks at him.

“I am _good_ at chess, am I not? I studied for a long time. I know all of the tricks. Anybody else, I can beat in less than ten moves.”

The bell rings and they rise together. “You’re incredible at chess,” says Nyota.

“I am beginning to doubt that. I cannot adapt and that is… that is the most vital thing, is it not?”

“Maybe. But you know I know zip about chess.” She takes his arm and presses a quick kiss to his shoulder. “Say hey to Sulu for me, okay?”

They both know he won’t say a word to Sulu. “Have a good day, Nyota.”

{}

Jim Kirk is having a bad time.

The weekend was great--both his parents were gone, his brother was out of town, and he had the entire house to himself.

He took a few hours to piss people off one one of his favorite RPGs, but gets bored when people start avoiding him. He tried tv next, but nothing caught his interest.

Somehow, he ended up on some chess website.

He’d never played chess before, but a quick run-through of the instructions later, he found he was actually pretty good at it. He kicked some old guy’s ass for a few games before the guy gave up.

But now his step dad is back and his brother is missing again and Jim drank way the fuck too much last night and this morning and now he’s half-hammered and half-hungover and really just trying to get through the fucking day.

He collapses into his desk and lets out an ungodly moan.

“Christ,” says Uhura from next to him. “Ever think about goin’ easy on the vodka?”

“I _did_ go easy on the vodka,” Jim mumbles. She didn’t say anything about whiskey.

“What about your dad’s whiskey collection?”

Shit.

“Kirk.” Uhura sounds disappointed. “Take care of yourself, man.”

“Easier said than done.” Jim reaches up and pulls his hand over his face.

“Kirk.”

“I’m fine, Uhura”

“You should visit Bones after school. He might be able to help you.”

“Bones can’t help me.” Jim knows he’s being angsty but he can’t seem to stop himself. Mostly because he’s a piece of shit.

“He can help with the bruises, at least.”

“I don’t have any bruises.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Mr. Kirk. Can you perhaps provide an answer?”

Jim looks up lazily. “B.”

“Perhaps you could pay more attention, Mr. Kirk. This question wanted a date and you gave me a letter. Kindly remove your hood.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. Whoever his teacher is looks immensely disappointed.

“Kirk,” Uhura whispers. “Please go talk to Bones.”

“Whatever.” Bones will just give him more to drink, so it’s a win-win anyway. If it made Uhura happy, whatever.

He drops his head on his desk and pretends staying very, very still will prevent his headache from getting any worse.

 

At lunch, Jim meets with Sulu and Chekov and they go to sit in their usual spot--under a tree just beyond the school grounds.

“Is Nyota coming?” Sulu asks. He’s got a couple rice cakes for lunch--“Not because I’m Asian! My mom’s on a diet and it’s affecting the rest of the family!”--and bites into one with a grimace.

“Who?”

“Oh my god. Uhura?”

“Oh. I dunno.” Jim unwraps his sandwich.

“Are you going to, I don’t know, _text_ her?”

“I don’t need your sass right now, Sulu.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen shit.” Uhura comes up with some kid right behind her. Jim can’t really see and he doesn’t really give a shit either. “Hikaru. Pav.”

“Did you know,” says Chekov, examining his shoes, “That the first boots were inwented in Russia?”

“Depends on the boot,” says an unfamiliar voice.

Everybody groans.

“It’s not you,” says Uhura soothingly. She straightens out her uniform and takes a seat next to Sulu, revealing the person behind her.

Jim doesn’t think he’s ever seen him before--he’s tall, long nose, sharp jawline, pristine hair from what he can see under the wool cap. His uniform is perfect, ironed, and clean. “Uh, hello?” he says, and he knows it’s rude as soon as it leaves his mouth (Uhura gives him a look) but he doesn’t apologize.

The guy raises one eyebrow--a strangely angled eyebrow, Jim observes. “Hello. You must be Jim Kirk.”

“Kirk,” says Jim.

“My apologies.”

“Everybody, this is Spock,” Uhura says. “Spock, you already know Sulu, and you met Kirk, but that’s Chekov over there.”

“Pavvy,” says Sulu fondly, and gets an elbow in response.

“Russia,” Chekov says as a greeting to Spock.

“For the leather boot, it is possible. However, winter boots, like those with the decorative beads of fur, have origins connecting more to the Inuit and Aleut natives of Alaska.”

Chekov shakes his head. “Not what I heard. _Russia._ ”

“But--”

“Spock,” Uhura says. “Spock, there’s no use.”

“His argument lacks both logic and reasoning.”

Oh, christ.

“Yeah, I know. Not everybody has your brain.” She turns and smiles at the rest of the group. “Spock just moved here.”

“Really?” Sulu leans forward. He was also relatively new--well, the newest of the group, at least, which just means he’s only been there a few years compared to the several years everybody else has. “Where are you from?”

“Vulcan,” says Spock calmly. There’s a second of uncomfortable silence. Then Jim, because he can’t keep his mouth shut, speaks up.

“Hot there?”

“It is quite hot, yes.”

“Sucks.”

Spock tilts his head. Kirk can just imagine those pointed ears under that cap, and he wishes Spock had had the decency to take it off. “Not at all,” he says. “The heat was quite pleasant.”

“What are you doing in town?” Sulu asks.

“My father is the ambassador for Vulcan. He has come to consult with the Earth ambassadors about.” Then he stops very abruptly. “My apologies. I should not discuss details.”

“Pretty cool, though.” Sulu smiles encouragingly. “How long are you staying?”

“Only a few weeks--two months, at the most, after which I will return home.”

Jim is about to start kicking and screaming. Nobody has said a word to him but Spock. Well, and Sulu, earlier. But still.

“Are you well, Kirk?”

He looks up and there’s Spock, all concerned and shit. “Me? Why?”

“You seem unwell.”

“He’s hungover,” Chekov says, then brightens. “Did you know that--”

“Vodka was ‘inwented’ in Russia, yeah,” Sulu says. “We _all_ know.”

“If you are experiencing pain,” says Spock, “I may be able to help.”

“What, seriously?”

“Yes. Vulcans are well-practiced in cures of common ailments. As my father has many human connections, we are also well-versed in common human ailments.”

“Uh.” What if he fucked it up? “Thanks but no thanks.” Jim isn’t big on shit like that, no offense. Plus they just met. It would be weird.

“Very well.”

“Hey, Spock.” Uhura reaches up. “Sit down.” Her hand connects with his and Jim sees him jerk away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean--”

Spock shakes his head. “I should go back to the school. It was interesting meeting you all.” Then he lifts his hands up, fingers all connected except for right in the middle. Everybody is too confused to do anything, so he just gives a curt nod and walks away.

“What was that?” Jim asks. “Was he trying to wave?”

Uhura looks stressed. “I don’t know. I should know this!”

“Chill,” says Sulu. “Just look it up or something.”

“Chill? _Chill_? Sulu, I’m studying foreign exchanges and interconnected cultures! I should know this!”

“Hold on. I’m looking it up.” Sulu taps something into his phone. “Uh… okay. It’s the Vulcan salute. You’re supposed to return it. The gesture, I mean.”

“Oops,” says Chekov.

“My head fuckin’ hurts,” says Jim. Everybody looks at him. Uhura seems disappointed once again.

“You could have taken up his offer,” she says. “He could’ve fixed it for you. That’s actually how we met.”

For some reason Jim’s stomach twists. Which. Why? Spock and Uhura just met, didn’t they? He wouldn’t steal her from him.

{}

“How was my boy’s second day of school?” Amanda smiles big as Spock steps through the door. “Did you make lots of friends?”

“No.”

“But?” Amanda always did have a gift for sensing when Spock had more to say. He sighs and leans against the counter, watching her as she cooks.

“The girl I met yesterday--Nyota Uhura. She has some friends to whom she introduced me.”

“And?”

“Your incomplete sentences are--”

“Spock, my grammar isn’t the topic right now.”

“Apologies.”

“Accepted.” She hands him a spatula of batter and he takes it dutifully.

“They are certainly interesting.”

“What are their names? What are they like?”

“Nyota Uhura, firstly. She is… affectionate. I do not think she understands that Vulcans are touch telepaths. This and the fact that she did not return my ta'al puzzles me.”

“Why’s that?”

“She claims to be a student of intergalactic affairs. As Vulcan and Earth are so closely related, I assumed she would be knowledgeable enough to reflect the gesture.”

“Maybe she hasn’t reached that chapter in the book yet.”

Spock licks at the batter, humming. “Perhaps.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Hikaru Sulu. Nyota informs me that he seeks to be a pilot. He is in one of my classes, but my experience of him was… brief. Then I believe it is Pavel Chekov--nobody said his first name in full but they called him variations of ‘Pavel’, and I concluded that is what his name must be. He has a great pride in Russia. His logic becomes unsound when defending it.”

“To some people, logic isn’t the most important thing,” says Amanda knowingly. “How are the brownies?”

“A little undercooked, but otherwise good.”

Amanda laughs. “You’re funny, kid.”

“That was not my intention.”

“Yes, it was. Don’t lie.”

Spock allows himself a small smile, lets Amanda see, and then releases it.

“Anybody else?”

“Kirk. He is…different from the rest of them.”

There’s something in Amanda’s eyes that Spock doesn’t like. “Different how?”

“I am unsure. He said he was hungover.”

“Hm.”

“I tried to help him, but he declined my offer. I do not know why.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like being touched. You’ll make a good pair.”

“I do not think so. He dislikes me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He avoided my eyes and his lip curled when did he regard me. I do not know if it was my physique or my race or something else that displeased him, but his dislike was clear.”

“Did he _say_ that he didn’t like you? Or did you just come to that conclusion all on your own?”

Spock frowns. “It was a logical deduction. You told me to pay attention to people when they are expressing emotions, and that is just what I did.”

“Give him another chance.”

“You misunderstand. I was not in the wrong--”

“I know you weren’t in the wrong. But don’t try to avoid him just because you thought he didn’t like you. If you see him again, talk to him.”

“What is the point? Either way, it will only be a few weeks before my departure. My residence at this school is only temporary, and so too are my friends.”

“Don’t assume such big things like that. Who knows? Maybe you’ll like one enough to invite them to Vulcan.”

Spock tries not to sulk. “I doubt it.”

“Just give this place a chance.”

“I would prefer just to return home.” He stands up and returns the spatula. “It is much too hot here and the students stare more than do those on Vulcan.”

Amanda looks sad.

“Perhaps I will not fit in anywhere,” Spock adds, and he knows he’s being cruel as he says this but he fights that purely human observation. “My human half makes me too strange for Vulcan; my Vulcan half makes me too alien for Earth.”

“Spock, you’ll find your place.”

“I have tried, mother. It is logical to accept my place here as an outsider.”

She shakes her head. “You’re a drama queen.”

“That is--”

“Illogical, I know.” She smiles. “Go to your room and finish your homework. Dinner will be ready in a few hours.”

 

Spock plays chess again.

As soon as he logs on, he messages his nemesis, ‘captainT’: <Might you consider a rematch?>

Only a moment passes before a reply arrives: <i might>

Spock frowns. <You lack your normal mocking tone. Is something wrong?>

A longer moment. <oh buddy u have no idea>

Try to make friends, Amanda had said. Spock lets out a little sigh. <Would you like to converse on the topic?>

<uh sure?>

Spock starts a game, though he knows that neither of them will pay much attention to it. Hopefully, a voice in the back of his mind whispers, that will help him win.

<ok so>

Spock moves his pawn.

<i know this will probably sound annoying but i ahve tthis really shitty famly like my dad died when i was born and my mom married this douchebag and my brother ran away this weekend so i just got drunk out of my mind and now im suffering the consequences>

<Does getting drunk help?> Spock types. He tried alcohol once, when he was twelve, but failed to see the appeal. He never got that hazy cloud around his head that human accounts always described.

<a little. Dont have to think as much, yfm?>

Spock goes to his browser and searches what ‘yfm’ means, then returns to the chat. <I believe I do understand, yes. Removing oneself from the situation often aids in the healing process. Have you considered meditation? It has a similar effect but produces no headache in the aftermath.>

<but w meditation ill be alone  w my thoughts>

<I see.>

<this dude offered me a cure at school i shoulda taken it. Do u know anythign about vulcans?>

Spock tilts his head at the screen. Could he possibly be talking to Kirk? He can certainly ask: <Kirk?>

<uh how do u know my name??> Then, after a pause: <i mean. Who’s that?>

<This is Spock. We met at school.>

<Oh.> Kirk moves his bishop. His strategy still infuriates Spock. <uh, hey. I guess u know a lot about vulcans huh>

<I do have an extensive knowledge, yes.>

<sorry ab the hand thing>

<I did not expect you to return my ta'al. It was Nyota to whom I offered that; she did not understand, which surprised me.>

<she was disappointed in herself. She thinks she’s miss perfect but even nerds like her forget shit>

<Forgive me for changing the subject, but what is your strategy?>

<i dont have a strategy>

Spock’s hand curls into a fist. <You must have a strategy>

<nah i just learned to play over the weekend> There are a few characters next to this that Spock doesn’t entirely understand, so he highlights them and puts them into the internet search. The first result is ‘shrug emoji’. He tilts his head. It does look like a shrug. It was clever of Kirk to come up with that.

<You are extraordinary. I have been studying the intricacies of chess for the majority of my life and yet your defeat eludes me>

<do all vulcans talk like u? sorry>

<It is the logical approach to Standard. Apologies for any confusion.>

<nah ur cool>

<Kirk.>

<yea?>

<The offer still stand, if you want your headache cured.>

Kirk doesn’t make a move but he also doesn’t reply.

<Kirk?>

<i have to go>

And then he logs off and Spock is left staring at the screen. He would have had a checkmate in two, but then again, this was Kirk, who was apparently a chess prodigy.

Amanda pokes her head in. “Doesn’t look like homework.”

“Apologies.”

“Just get it done, Spock.”

{}

“What are you doing?”

Jim slams the lid of his laptop down. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Was that chess?”

“No.”

“Look, kid. I’m not gonna make fun of you or anything. Just wanted to know.”

“Fine. It was chess. I just thought I’d try it out. Keeps my mind busy.” He nods at the cabinet across the kitchen. “Got anything good in there?”

“Nothing I’m given you.”

“Bones, come on.”

“I’m not gonna do it, Jim. You’re drinking your life away.”

“I’m only…”

“Seventeen,” Bones supplies.

“Right. Seventeen.”

“I’m not giving you a drink.” He claps Jim on the shoulder and apparently feels the wince. “Shit. Is your step dad home?”

“No.”

“Jim.”

He sighs and pulls aside his collar, revealing the dark bruise. “You can’t do anything about it, okay? I’m fine.”

“You aren’t _fine_. Dammit, Jim. You need to get out of that house.”

“I’ve only got a couple more months and then I’m gone.”

“A couple more months? You graduate in _June_ , remember?”

“Well, I’m gonna be gone on my birthday, so.”

Bones drops into the seat next to him. “How’s school?”

“It’s whatever.” Jim’s mind immediately goes to Spock. He defeated _that_ guy at chess? _Him_?

“You’re full of shit. What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know. There’s this guy.”

Bones’s head whips around. “Guy?”

“Yeah.”

“A guy you’re interested in?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

Bones takes a deep breath. Jim knows he’s enjoying this, even if he won’t admit it. “Tell me about him.”

“Uh. Okay, so. He’s Vulcan.”

“Jim, come on.” Bones had had a bad experience with Vulcans--a couple years ago, some Vulcan dude broke his heart. And now he’s all ornery and bitter and biased.

“What?” Jim says ‘what’ but he’s fully up to date on everything that’s happened in Bones’s life. “He’s, uh. He’s cute.”

“Yeah. That’s how they get you. Green-blooded hobgoblins,” he mutters under his breath. Jim laughs a little.

“He’s a little weird. He looks totally perfect, like…like a picture, I guess. And everybody loves him because he’s super interesting or whatever.”

“What’s his name?” Bones asks tiredly.

“Spock.”

“Huh. The ambassador’s son?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s half human, you know.”

Oh. “Really?”

“Yeah. Gives him an emotional edge, but also people are pieces of shit to him for it. There was a big scandal when he was born.”

“You remember when he was _born_?”

“Well, no. But the big fuss was still around long enough for me to remember when I was younger. His dad, the ambassador? Hooked up with a human woman. Everybody thought it was so disgraceful or whatever. Can’t imagine the kid’s going through a good time.”

Jim doesn’t say anything.

“So, uh. Why do you like him?”

“Well, he’s cute.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“And,” says Jim, louder, “He’s super nice. I was, uh. I was playing chess with him? And he just let me talk about anything I wanted. But it’s nice in a weird way. It feels kinda like I’m talking to a computer. Just. A super cute computer.” Jim drops his chin into his hands and allows himself a tiny little grin. “He’s got this bowl cut but it totally works on him, you know? And he does this thing with his head.” Jim tilts his own head as an example. “And he’s really good at raising his eyebrow.”

“That’s a Vulcan thing,” says Bones, nodding.

“And he’s got a cute ass.”

“There it is. I was waiting for that.”

“You should see it. It’s a good ass.”

“And I bet his eyes are all perfect and dreamy, too, aren’t they?”

“I, uh. Didn’t really get a good look at his eyes.”

“So you were ogling him but couldn’t manage to look the poor guy in the eyes?”

“Well, no. I was kinda avoiding his eyes. The sky altogether, really. Bad hangover. Whiskey would fix it.” He gives a pointed look toward the cabinet.

“You mean this happened _today_?”

“Uh. Yeah. I just met him today but I played chess with him for a little while over the weekend. You know. Before everything went more shit than it already was.”

“Get up.” Bones tugs at his arm.

“Why?” Jim whines.

“Because we need to make a stop at the library.”

“Ugh.”

“I’m a med student, Jim. I don’t really know what you expected. Now, come on. You can tag along and gush about your Vulcan crush and I can provide transportation, food, and complaints.”

Now Jim grins for real. “You’re a good friend, Bones.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

A half hour later, Jim sprawls across a chair in the library and watches Bones, scowling. He hates libraries. Libraries are the worst. None of the books smell right and they’re all covered in plastic and if Jim’s going to read a book, it needs to be fucking perfect, okay? Not pristine, but perfect. Like a real book should feel. And it should belong to him, not the city.

“You’re letting your inner me peek out,” Bones said, poking him as he moved past to another aisle.

“Yeah, well. You know how I feel about libraries.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I have some strong opinions, I admit, but I know for a fact that libraries are the worst.”

“Whatever.”

“Jim.” And suddenly there’s fucking Spock, standing right in front of him, looking perfect as ever. Jim drops his legs onto the floor, suddenly ashamed.

“Uh, hey, Spock.”

“Have you recovered from your headache?”

Why was he so concerned about this, Christ. “Uh. Still here. You can do your thing, if you want. I guess.” He doesn’t really know why he has to sound so reluctant about it, because he’s kinda fucking dying for Spock to get within a foot of him. How did he get so thirsty after speaking to him over chess? Fucking chess.

Spock comes closer and Jim holds his breath. He feels a cool touch on his neck. Spock’s thumbs find a spot on the back of Jim’s neck and squeeze. It kinda hurts but it's not nearly as bad as the headache so Jim just keeps his mouth shut.

“Uh, what the fuck?”

Spock and Jim jerk away as if they’d been doing something wrong.

“Hey,” says Bones, offering his hand. “Leonard McCoy. I’m Jim’s friend.”

Spock just. Looks at his hand. “My name is Spock,” he says. “You will forgive me if I…” He makes a vague gesture and Bones’s hand drops back to his side.

“Right. Sorry. What were you doin’ with Jim?”

“I was attempting to cure his hangover.” Spock looks at him through the corner of his eye. “Better?”

Jim stares. “Yeah. How’d you do that?”

“Pressure points.” Something in Spock’s eye glitters, and Jim would say it was mischief but he isn’t sure if Vulcan’s do that sort of thing. “My people are fond of them.”

Bones sniggers. Jim feels like he’s missing something. “Watcha doin’ here, Spock?”

“I am retrieving some books for my mother. She is fond of romances. My father cannot fathom why.”

Bones shoots a glance at Jim before he replies. “Can you fathom why?”

“She is reminiscing. It is commonplace in humans.”

“What, Vulcans don’t get sentimental?”

“Of course Vulcans get sentimental. We simply have more control over said sentiment.”

“Huh. You romantic?”

“I do not have sufficient information to properly answer that question.”

Jim hides his smile.

“I meant Vulcans, Spock.”

“My apologies. We have the capacity for romance, yes, but seldom do we act as humans do. Our marriages are arranged. Pon farr, which humans commonly mistake for romantic pursuit, is often simply composed of biological urges.”

“Pom what?” asks Jim, who got lost about ten minutes ago.

“Pon farr,” says Bones.

“Every seven years, Vulcans go through Pon farr. It is a sort of blood fever. Vulcans must mate with someone with whom they share an empathic bond or engage in kal-if-fee.”

Jim is still confused but he decides not to say anything else.

“What of you, Mr. McCoy? What is it that brings you to the library?”

“I’m just grabbing a few books. I’m in med school.”

Spock looks pleased and Jim wants to throw something at Bones. “You are a doctor, then.”

“Not yet. That’s what I’m studyin’ for.”

“Fascinating. Are you studying any species in particular?”

“I’m gonna join starfleet, so. All of them. As much as I can.”

Jim picks up a book and prepares to throw it.

“And you, Kirk?”

Slowly Jim puts the book down. “I was taggin’ along with Bones.”

Spock tilts his head.

“Bones is his nickname for me,” says Bones. “Don’t ask why. It’s a long story.”

“I see,” says Spock.

“Anyway. Why do you call him Kirk?”

“That is what he requested I call him.”

“They call everybody by their last names at school,” Jim says. “I feel like you should know this.”

“I blocked those years out, Jim.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” says Spock, “I should return home.” He lifts a small glass rectangle. “My mother is summoning me.”

“See you around, Spock.” Jim lifts his hand, parting his fingers in the middle. _Take that, Uhura._  Spock lifts his hand in return.

“Peace and long life, Kirk.”

Uh. Jim didn’t think this far ahead. Bones elbows him.

“Live long and prosper,” he mutters under his breath.

Thank you, Bones. “Live long and prosper,” Jim says.

“Bye, Spock,” says Bones.

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

When Spock walks away, Bones turns to Jim and grins. “I hate him.”

“You do not. He called you a doctor and you _liked_ it.”

“Fine,” says Bones. “But just you wait. He’ll show his true nasty colors soon enough.”

{}


	3. Tuesday

“Hey, Spock.”

Spock dips his head down in a nod. “Nyota.”

“Sorry about yesterday. I totally blanked on the whole… hand thing.”

“You are forgiven.”

“And sorry about not returning your ta'al. I missed that lesson, for some reason.”

“You are forgiven for this as well, Nyota.”

She lets out her breath. “Okay. Good. Do you want to eat lunch with us today?”

“I will sit with you, yes.”

“You doing okay?”

Spock lifts one eyebrow.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything. And don’t,” she adds, holding up a hand, “Say that you doubt you’ll need me. Everybody needs somebody sometime.”

“I believe the same thing.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes. It is illogical to presume one is strongest in solitude. A collection of minds will always create more variety than one mind alone.”

“Do you have many friends in Vulcan?”

Spock hesitates. “No. My human side does not appease their traditional views.”

“So they’re racist pricks, is what you’re saying.”

“Put crudely, yes.”

“They bully you?”

“I was taunted by my peers fairly frequently in my earlier years, but their attentions have turned elsewhere since.”

“They’re just ignoring you?”

“As often as they can.”

“Hm.”

“May I inquire as to why you are so curious about my situation back home?”

“I was just trying to decide who to beat up.”

“You intend to harm my peers?”

“If they’re being mean to you, yeah.”

“You puzzle me, Nyota.”

“Yeah, I puzzle me too.” She touches his shoulder. “See you at lunch?”

“That is the plan, yes.”

 

At lunch, Spock walks alone to the tree. Everybody is already there, and everybody but Kirk looks up and greets him as he approaches.

“Hello.” He tries not to look at Kirk. Perhaps he offended him in some way yesterday. “How have your days fared?”

“Oh, well.” Nyota flicks her long bunch of hair behind her shoulder. “Days can’t fare anything.”

Spock curls the very corner of his mouth.

“Ha! I saw that! You _smiled_!”

“Wait. Amusement?” Sulu frowns. “I thought Vulcans didn’t get amused.”

“I am not entirely Vulcan.”

“Well, what else are you?”

“Russian, probably,” says Chekov, poking at his container of potatoes.

“No, but I am human.” Spock reaches into his bag and pulls out his own lunch--a traditional Vulcan vegetable wrap. Amanda probably snuck some of that smooth white cheese into here, too; she always did like to put her own human touches in the food that they ate. Sarek always pretended to dislike it but he did seem to eat a little faster whenever she cooked. “My mother’s side,” he says.

“That weird?” asks Sulu.

“The word ‘weird’ would imply anything was out of the ordinary, which does not apply in this situation, as I grew up. However,” he adds, because he knows that they will attempt to clarify, “The conflict of cultures is cluttered and often confusing, though I have always found myself leaning toward my Vulcan heritage, as that is where I grew up and it is how I commonly present to other people.” He lifts one shoulder. “At least anybody but Vulcans.”

“Vulcans can tell?”

“Nyota, Vulcans are very perceptive. It is difficult for them _not_ to notice.”

“What is there to notice?”

“My human eyes.”

“Oh,” says Sulu, rolling his own eyes. “Obviously, Uhura. How’d you miss that?”

“That isn’t funny.” Kirk finally speaks up voice tired and weak.

“Sorry.” Both Sulu and Uhura look over at Spock guiltily.

“Accepted.” Spock regards Kirk. “How fares you, Kirk?”

“Eh.” Kirk shrugs but doesn’t provide anything else.

“Probably hungover again,” says Chekov. Spock knows this not to be true--Kirk does not have the common symptoms of a hangover--but Kirk says nothing. “You really should stop drinking, Captain.”

“Captain,” Spock repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Nickname,” says Kirk dully. “It’s dumb.”

“No it isn’t.” Nyota is indignant. “You love that nickname.”

Kirk closes his eyes and falls backward onto the grass. He must be staining his uniform, Spock thinks with a little concern.

“He gets like this sometimes,” says Sulu. He reaches over and rubs Kirk’s knee.

“Like what?” Kirk asks irritably.

“You know. Hard to talk to.”

“Ugh.” He stands up, lifts his digitus me’dius to everybody, and walks away. Everybody looks at Spock.

“What was that gesture? I am with it unfamiliar.”

“He was flipping us off,” says Nyota. She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. He just…”

“He is having a difficult time, and it would be illogical to expect him to perform the same way in times such as these.”

There is more staring.

“Excuse me,” says Spock. He rises, tucking the wrap back into his bag. “I believe I forgot to run an errand. Apologies.”

“Uh,” says Nyota. “Accepted?” There seems to be an air of confusion around them, and Spock doesn’t entirely understand why. “See you tomorrow?”

“Likely.”

Spock walks in the direction Kirk went. For a moment, he worries that Kirk will become angry at him, but then pushes that emotionally vulnerable thought away. What does he have to lose, even if Kirk does become angry? They are not friends. Even if something drastic happens and they become arch-enemies, Spock will be leaving in a few weeks and will not have to ever see him again.

He finds Kirk hunched another another tree, knees curled to his chest. “Kirk,” he says hesitantly. The other boy looks up.

“Oh. Hey, Spock.”

“I hope I am not interrupting you.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” Kirk pats the ground next to him. “Come sit.”

Spock sits. “Would you like to again converse?”

“Uh… sure.”

“Your brother. Is he still missing?”

“Yeah. The police are lookin’ for him, though.” Kirk shrugs, like this fails to bother him, but the expression on his face says otherwise. “He does this a lot, though. Don’t blame him.”

“Your stepfather?”

“Yeah. He’s a fuckin’ asshole.”

Spock is not familiar with this expression, but he pretends that he is. “Do you also seek to leave your home?”

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah, but I don’t know if I would ever be able to do it. I’m a fuckin’ coward.”

“You are not a coward.”

“You don’t know that.” Kirk looks over, though, and gives Spock the tiniest of smiles. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“About what would you like to…” Spock pauses. “Speak?”

“I don’t know. What’s it like where you live?”

“It is hot on Vulcan, but it is a dry heat. Not like here. Here, the air is… thick and heavy. It is lighter on Vulcan. But there is less vegetation, as well--not nearly as much green.” He looks up at the sky, like he can see Vulcan, but he knows that such a thing is impossible, but he also cannot seem to look away. “Mostly red. It is beautiful. And there is much history there. Vulcans live long lives and usually maintain both culture and tradition.” He turns his gaze to Kirk, now. “Would you like to see?”

“What, like pictures?”

Spock hides his hands. “Yes. Pictures.”

“Sure.”

He opens his gallery and hands his phone over. Their fingers brush and Spock immediately pulls away, but Kirk does not say anything. He just scrolls through the pictures with barely disguised fascination.

“This is… holy shit.”

Spock does not entirely know what this means. He should have paid more attention when researching human slang.

“This is so pretty, dude. You _live_ here?”

“That is right outside where I live. The pictures taken out a window are from my bedroom.”

“That’s so cool. Do you miss it?”

“Immensely.” He tilts his head. “However, I will return home soon. It is illogical to well on that which I know already to be true.”

“So you’re, what, not letting yourself be sad?”

Spock is about to argue that he cannot feel ‘sad’ but then his head drops down and the truth slips out of his mouth before he can stop it: “Yes.”

“You’re half human, though. You have emotions.”

“Yes.”

“So why don’t you ever use them?”

Spock mulls this over for a moment. “To my understanding, emotions are not 'used.' And Vulcans do have emotions, Kirk. We simply have better control over them.”

“Okay, so, back to my original point,” says Kirk, “You’re half human. You don't have to have as much control over them as everybody else, right?”

“That is a matter of both opinion and circumstance.”

“You gonna clarify or are you gonna leave me hanging?”

“I grew up on Vulcan, surrounded by Vulcans. It was logical for me to adapt to my surroundings and embrace my Vulcan heritage.”

“But you’re on Earth, now. You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It is a difficult habit to break, Kirk.”

“You don’t have to call me that. You can call me Jim.”

Spock looks at him but does not reply. Kirk’s cheeks get red and he rubs the back of his neck.

“I mean,” he says, “If you want. I just. I don’t know.”

“You prefer I call you Jim?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Your peers do not call you Jim.”

“Yeah, it was stupid. It’s whatever.”

Spock studies him. “Thank you, Jim.”

“For what?”

“You have a peculiar confidence in me. You are willing to share in me what you do not share with your friends. I do not understand, but I gather this is something by which I should be… flattered.”

“You’re making me sad.”

“Why is that?”

“You don’t sound like you have any friends.”

“I have you and Nyota.”

“But nobody on Vulcan?”

“My Vulcan peers do not agree with me.”

“On _what_?”

“My heritage.”

“That’s not disagreement. That’s racism.”

“Nyota said the same thing.”

“Well, she was right. Why do you put up with that?”

“There was no reason for me to object. It would have changed nothing.” He looks over at Jim and arches an eyebrow. “Although I did, several times, get into fights.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Jim stretches his legs out and grins at Spock. “You good at fighting?”

“I often won.”

“Nice.” He claps Spock on the back. “Of course you’re good at fighting. You’re good at everything.”

“Not chess, apparently.”

“Eh. I wouldn’t know.”

“I’ve studied chess at great lengths.”

“Well, then, play against Sulu or Uhura or Chekov or somebody. See if you can beat them.”

Spock doesn’t answer and Jim laughs.

“Are you sulking?”

“No. I do not sulk.”

“You’re totally sulking.”

Spock rolls his eyes.

“See? You pretend to have no emotions but you totally do.”

“I was merely expressing--”

“Displeasure? Irritation?” Jim’s grin is wide. “‘Cause both of those are emotions, you know.”

“I am aware of this fact, Jim.”

“So?”

“You have put me into a situation which I cannot win.”

Jim laughs for a good few minutes. It is a pleasant, easy laugh, and Spock finds that he quite enjoys the sound of it. Laughter was not abundant on Vulcan--Spock’s only exposure to it was with Amanda, whose laugh was certainly enjoyable but not nearly as much as Jim’s laugh.

This observation he tucks away into the corner of his mind; there is no real use for it at this given moment, and dwelling on it would be illogical.

“Wow,” says Jim. “Haven’t done that in a while.”

“What is that, Jim?”

“Laughed.”

Spock feels a compression on his chest and looks down, puzzled.

“What’s wrong?”

“It is nothing.”

“Sure.” Jim smiles at him, like he knows something that Spock does not. Spock hopes that thing is not related to chess. “Listen,” he says.

“I am listening, Jim.”

“I’m a mess. I just… I’m a mess.”

“To my understanding, human emotions tend to make one just that.”

Jim laughs again, but the sound seems different somehow. “I just thought you should know. So you… well, so you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do not think I yet understand.”

“Okay, well. Think of it this way.” Jim pauses. “You’re gonna try to have a normal relationship with me, but that’s gonna fail. I’m gonna badger you every second of the day. I’ll completely ignore regular friendship boundaries. I can’t be indifferent about anything. It’s impossible. It’s terrible. You’re going to get really tired of me really fast.”

“I find that hard to believe, Jim.”

“Really? There’s nothing logical to make you doubt it.”

“It is certainly possible, but I do not think that it is plausible.”

“You’re ridiculous,” says Jim.

“How so?”

“Not everything has to depend on logic. Sometimes you have to depend on our gut feeling.”

“The feeling of my… gut… has no effect on my thinking process.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You should listen to it more.”

“Discomfort in one’s organs--”

“Oh, Christ. I’m not talking about your _organs_. I’m talking about your first instincts. Your feelings. What you want to do versus what you _should_ do.”

“My first instinct is always a logical one,” says Spock, puzzled. “What I want to do is reliant on what logic has dictated I should do.”

“Really? You’ve never done something against logic? _Never_?”

Spock thinks for a moment. “It seems I have done some things against logic.”

Jim leans back, satisfied. “See?”

“It was before I understood emotions and the unnecessary nature of emotions.” Spock looks toward Jim, who is gazing at Spock with an incredible intensity. “I would not have emotions at all if I participated in kolinahr.”

“If you what?”

“If I participated in kolinahr,” Spock repeats.

“And what’s that supposed to be?”

“Kolinahr is a ritual in which many vulcans participate. The majority of them, however, do not succeed. It is… it is meant to rid one of all emotions. If one succeeds, they will be completely and unwaveringly logical.”

“That sounds…” Jim seems to be searching for the correct words. “That sounds awful.”

“How so, Jim?”

The bell rings. Jim does not move and neither does, for some reason, Spock.

“Feeling is a part of living. You can’t just… give that up.”

“Those who in kolinahr partake choose logic over emotion. They pursue development of the universe, not of themselves.”

“That isn’t living. It’s just… existing. Why is that appealing? _How_ is that appealing?”

“Vulcans do not flock toward that which they find appealing. The needs of the individual never outweigh the needs of the many, and to pursue knowledge over all else is a logically selfless act.”

Jim is quiet for a long time, fingers tugging at the green blades of grass beneath them. “Do you want to do that? Go through that ritual thing?”

“Very few Vulcans succeed,” says Spock.

“Wait, what?”

“I have a suspicion that you heard me correctly.”

“I did. But I’m pretty sure ‘very few Vulcans succeed’ means ‘if I succeed in this then I’ll be a real boy’.”

“I am a real boy,” says Spock. “Though I suppose the term ‘boy’ is flexible.”

“I meant you want to go through the ritual things because it’ll make you more valid as a Vulcan.”

“That is preposterous. A ritual would not affirm--”

“They’d take you more seriously, though, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“I admit the human part of me that craves acceptance may play a part in my decision to someday participate in kolinahr.”

“You’re lonely.”

Spock shrugs. “Most species of which the Federation is aware have psychological needs dependent upon social interaction. It is logical that I, with my overtly emotional human side and more reserved but nevertheless still emotional Vulcan side, would house the same psychological needs.”

“That’s a lot of words when you could’ve just said ‘yes’.”

“I sought to explain the logic behind my reasoning.”

“I don’t need to know your logic,” says Jim gently.

“That--”

“Don’t say that isn’t logical, Spock. Oh my god. I just. I’m all about feeling so. If you have logical explanations, I probably won’t be able to process it.”

“You have much more intelligence than you credit yourself for, Jim.” Curious, Spock picks at the grass too, and shivers when the soft strands tickle at his palms.

“It isn’t about intelligence, Spock. It’s about _feeling_. And if I’m good at one thing, it’s feeling.”

“We are uneven matches, Jim.”

“Nah.” Jim reaches over and gently brushes the strands from Spock’s hands. “Come on. We should get to class.” He stands up and Spock stares after him, puzzled.

He did not realize they were that close.

{}

“What are you thinking about?” Sulu drops into the desk next to Jim and gives him a warm smile. “You look happier.”

Jim just looks at him.

“Where’d you go during lunch?”

“Around,” says Jim.

“You were late to class.”

“Yeah. I didn’t hear the bell.” That’s a lie. He had just not wanted to get up.

“What do you think about Spock?”

Jim’s head shoots up. “What? Why?”

“I was just wondering. Geez.” Sulu lifts his hands in surrender and Jim relaxes a little.

“Oh,” he says, trying for nonchalance. “He’s, uh. Logical.”

“I have him in one of my classes. He’s the smartest person in there. Can you imagine being Vulcan? Knowing _everything_?”

“Yeah,” says Jim. “But you don’t get to feel anything. Or at least you suppress it.”

“Feelings are the worst part of life.” Sulu writes his name down, blocky and big, at the top of his worksheet.

“Yeah, but they’re also the best part. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine not feeling anything. I don’t know if it would be good or bad.” He draws a tiny little flower in the corner of his paper. “Spock’s not full Vulcan, though. You are definitely tell he feels things.”

Jim tries to forget that tingling feeling he got when he touched Spock’s hand. “Yeah. He wants to get rid of that, though.”

“Really?”

Okay, that isn’t Jim’s business to share. “You’ll have to ask him.”

Sulu studies Jim for a moment. Then he says, “Anybody special in your life?”

Jim, who was in the middle of writing his name, drops his pen and watches mournfully as it rolls away from him. “No.”

“I finally asked Ben out.” Sulu grabs Jim’s pen and hands it back to him.

“Yeah? How did that go?”

A blush tinges Sulu’s cheeks. “He said yes. We’re going to go to dinner next week.”

“Where are you taking him?”

“What makes you think I’m taking him anywhere?” Sulu asks, eyes sparkling. “He’s taking me to that Italian place on fifth.”

“Ooh. A classic.”

“Yeah, well.” He grins. “I’m super excited about it.”

“Cool,” says Jim. “Cool, cool, cool, cool.”

 

Jim gets hope and opens the door to his stepfather sprawled across the couch, bottle dangling between his fingers.

Ugh. What was the point of going to a fancy-ass private school if he didn’t get to live there?

He creeps past the couch, careful to dodge the hand that his stepfather flings outward, and slips into his bedroom.

He goes straight to his computer, opens up that fucking chess website.

Spock isn’t online. Of course he isn’t.

But just as he begins to wallow in self-pity, he feels his phone buzz. It’s Bones. Lazily. Jim flicks the call to his computer and turns it onto video. “Hey, Bones.”

“Jim.” Bones sounds tired. Jim sits up, concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“I just. Well. School. You know.”

Oh, shit. Jim was no help when it came to school shit. “Uh. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Are you asking if I want help with my academia?”

“Uh.”

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.” Bones sighs. “Sorry. That’s probably rude.”

“It’s okay.” But also Jim really wants to die. “You’re okay, right?”

“I will be. I’m just taking a break from studying in the library.”

“Uh-huh.” Jim tries not to zone out when Bones mentions the library. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. Your dad isn’t giving you any trouble?”

“Step-dad,” says Jim immediately. “And he’s sleeping right now. I’m trying to stay quiet.”

“I’m worried about you, Jim. You need to get out of that house.”

“And go where, Bones? I need to stick around. For George. For my mom.”

“George’s bailed already. Your mom’s constantly away. There’s no reason for you to stick around anymore, especially since now you’re alone in that house with that--” Bones immediately switches subjects: “--and then we started learning about these nifty little pills where you just. Pop them in! And bam, new kidney!”

Jim wilts and spins around. “Hey.”

“Don’t just say ‘hey’ to me,” his stepfather slurs. “Where’ve you been?”

“School?”

He tilts his bottle at Jim. “George still hasn’t been found.”

“I know.”

“Your mother called.”

“Yeah?”

“Won’t be back for another few weeks.”

“Of course,” Jim mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jim gestures to the computer screen, where Bones is patiently waiting. “Bones and I are working on an assignment.”

“Bones is in college.”

“I’m aware.”

His stepfather grunts and lumbers out of the room. Jim sighs in relief.

“He gone?”

“He’s gone.”

“Oh, thank god.” Bones lets out his breath. “Anyway. Like I was saying, you need to get the fuck outta there.”

“I don’t know, Bones. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Come live with me. I’ve got a spare room.”

“Maybe.”

“Who are you talking to?” A second voice on Bones’s line. Jim frowns, because that sounds so familiar? What the fuck?

“Oh, hey. It’s Jim. Wanna say hi?”

Spock’s face appears on the screen and Jim immediately wants to throw up. God, he even looks good through Bones’s shitty phone camera. “Hello, Jim.”

“Uh. Hey, Spock. You and Bones are hanging out?”

Bones shoves his way back into view. “I wouldn’t say hanging out. Spock’s just. Assisting me with something.”

Jim tries to shove all the images that immediately pop up away from his brain. _Spock, under the table, Bones’s hand tangled in his dark hair_. Jim, uncomfortably, pressed a palm his slacks. “Uh-huh.” That seems to be his go-to word nowadays. Especially when it comes to Spock. “What’s, uh. What’s he assisting you with?”

“I am providing my assistance with a medical project,” says Spock. The camera jerks around until it’s laying sideways, displaying both of them. Spock looks concerned and Bones looks pissed off.

“I didn’t think you’d get along.”

“We aren’t,” Bones gripes. “But I need help and I’m not gonna ask one of the other med students because they don’t fuckin’ know.”

“What do you mean they don’t know? Shouldn’t you all know the--” Jim stops at the look Bones gives him. “Sorry. My bad.”

“I’m not a simple country medical doctor anymore, christ.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” Jim wants to kill himself. Spock and Bones are out there probably making out or something and Jim is here, sitting alone in his room, trying to mask the fear he got every time he heard movement from outside his room.

“Are you well, Jim?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” Only a beat passes before Jim laughs. “Wow, that was a lie.”

“Jim?” Spock leans toward the camera, one eyebrow arching. “Perhaps you should come to join us at the library, yes?”

“I don’t know if I can leave.”

“Tell your step-dad that you’re going to bed early and then hop out the window.” Bones looks concerned now, too, and Jim just wants to kill himself even more. “You’ve done it before, Jim.”

“Yeah. Okay, I can do that.”

“Should we come pick you up? Spock has a car.”

“It is not mine.”

“I didn’t say it was yours, asshole. I said you _had_ one.”

Spock lifts his shoulder. “You make a fair point, Doctor.”

Bones rolls his eyes at Jim. “We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Fuck.” Jim scrambles upward. “Okay, I just need to get dressed.”

“You are dressed, Jim,” says Spock.

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna wear my _uniform_ , Spock, christ. I’m not a fuckin’ nerd.”

Spock looks down at his own uniform, a tiny crease between his eyebrows, and Jim decides to hang up before he can humiliate himself any more.

“Okay, well, bye. See you soon. All that.” And he slams down the button, shaking his head, half-tempted to smash his head against the wall.

Okay. He’s fine. He can do this. He’s fucking fine.

He tiptoes to his closet and shifts through his clothes for a little while, eventually picking out a pair of pants with an obnoxious pattern and a bright yellow shirt that reads ‘beam me up, assholes’ in all caps. Nobody said James Tiberius Kirk couldn’t major in fashion.

Then he slips on his sneakers, laces them up, and pulls open his door. “I’m going to bed early!” he calls out, scratching at a spot on his neck. “Do you need anything before I crash?”

“Get your homework done?”

“Yep! Bones was a lot of help!”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Jim shuts and locks his door, then goes to his window and slides it open. “Here we go,” he whispers to himself, because he’s Extra and full of drama. Just as he’s jumping out, Bones appears right in front of him. “Jesus! What the fuck!”

“It’s been five minutes,” says Bones. “Come on, Jim.” He takes the upper part of Jim’s arm and pulls him toward the street, toward a sleek black car on the curb.

“It has not!”

“Yes, it has.” Bones tugs at the car’s handle and Jim gapes at it.

“Is this--”

“Spock’s car.”

“I was under the assumption I had made it clear that this is not my car.” Spock, in the driver’s seat, looks at Bones in the mirror as Jim is shoved in.

“Yeah, whatever,” says Bones.

“Hey, Spock, has it been five minutes since Bones said he would be here in five minutes?”

“It has.”

“Told you,” says Bones, smug.

“However,” Spock says, “By the time the doctor reached your window, it had only been four minutes.”

“Told you,” says Jim. He straps himself in and Bones goes around to the other side of the car to sit shotgun. “So, uh. What have you two been up two?” _How the fuck did you get in contact?_ he wants to ask. _Did you two make out like my brain keeps imagining you did?_

“Studying, mostly,” says Bones as Spock starts up the car. They pull away and it feels almost like gliding compared to the other cars Jim has been in. Jesus, how rich _is_ Spock? “But, you know. We were sprinkling a few other things in there, too, weren’t we?”

“Yes, Doctor.” Spock is paying a great amount of attention to the road, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Jim likes watching him move--everything about him seems so graceful. That might be because Jim has the hots for him but also? Are all Vulcans like this or is Spock just perfect?

“What about you, Jim?”

“Wallowing in self-pity. The usual.”

Both Bones and Spock look at Jim in the mirror.

“It’s a joke,” says Jim.

“No, it isn’t,” says Bones. “Christ, Jim.”

“If I may interrupt,” says Spock carefully, “To where am I driving us?”

“Ooh.” Jim leans in between the two front seats. “Take us to the convenience store first. We can pick up snacks and drinks and then we’re gonna go look at the stars.”

Spock glances at Bones, who shrugs. “Star-watching with Jim is surprisingly enjoyable.”

“Is the star-watching or the Jim part the surprising part?” asks Jim, who hates himself.

“The star-watching part.” Bones rolls his eyes. “Come on, Jim. You know that, despite my constant exasperation, I like you really.”

“Uh-huh. You okay with star-watching, Spock?”

“Watching the stars seems…”

“Enjoyable? Fun?” Bones guesses. “You gotta give us something, man.”

“Fascinating,” Spock finishes. “It seems fascinating.”

“Ugh.” Bones turns around and shakes his head at Jim. “He’s been using that word way too much. I think it’s his favorite. Asshole.”

Jim might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees the corner of Spock’s mouth twitch. Ugh. Of course Bones can make him smile. Of fucking course. All Jim could make Spock do was be sad.

God. Of course Spock went to Bones instead of Jim. Of course he likes Bones more than Jim. God. There isn’t anything to like, anyway. Jim’s a fucking disaster and of course he was enough of a disaster to _tell_ Spock that he’s a disaster. So Spock, like the logical person that he was, said ‘fuck it’ and went to Bones.

Of course.

They pull in front of the convenience store and Spock turns off the car. Jim can’t help but watch the pretty twist of his fingers against the keys. Bones says something, but Jim doesn’t really pay attention because Spock is running those hands along the steering wheel, almost absently tracing the delicate stitches.

“Jim.”

Jim blinks and looks toward Bones. “What?”

“Are you going to come inside or what? I don’t know what you kids want.”

“I do not require anything,” says Spock. “We ate at the library, did we not?”

Bones laughs. And Jim’s pretty sure one eye closed before the other. Which means he winked. Which means they probably ate _something_ other than food.

 _Spock, under the table, Bones’s hand tangled in his hair_.

Okay. Not a good topic to think about. Also, why would they have been at the library while they were doing that? They were probably outside.

“Jim,” says Bones impatiently.

“Right, right. I’m getting out.” Jim tugs at the door handle and tries to duck out at least half as gracefully Bones does, but instead just stumbles outward, almost face-planting into the gravel. When he looks up, Spock isn’t even looking at him. Even Jim embarrassing himself can’t get Spock’s attention, dammit.

He sighs and follows Bones to the door, muttering out a thank you when Bones holds open the door. He really, really wants to be salty at Bones for totally going after Spock after Jim _said_ he liked him, But also he just, well, isn’t. Mostly he’s just salty at himself. He’s said this before and he’ll say it again: he’s a piece of shit.

“You’re distracted,” says Bones. He pulls open the door of one of the many refrigerators and examines the contents. “What do you think--chocolate milk or tea?”

“Tea. Definitely. And make it sweet tea.”

“Who do you think I am?” Bones grumbles. He grabs four bottles of the tea, shoves them all under his arm, and closes the door. “Go on, get your stuff.”

Jim is in the middle of browsing the juice box section.

“Seriously, Jim?”

“I love me a juice box.” He reaches out and just grabs one pack at random and heads toward the snacks. “What kinda shit does Spock usually eat?”

“Vulcans are vegetarians.”

“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure none of this is real meat anyway.” Jim picks a few snacks and carries everything to the register, Bones following closely behind him. “I hope you have money.”

“I do. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” He digs into his pocket for his wallet. “Listen, Jim. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“You don’t like talking about things, Bones.” Jim tries to keep his voice light but he knows he’s miserably failing.

“I like talking about things if it’s with you, Jim. You know that.” Bones sighs and hands over the money. “Keep the change.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“Talk to Uhura, then. Or Sulu. Or Chekov!”

Jim laughs and shakes his head.

“Don’t do that.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

Bones holds open the door for Jim again. “You should have _somebody_ , Jim. And if that’s not me, you should figure out who that is.”

“Maybe I should just get a therapist.”

“Right.” Bones raises one eyebrow and Jim wants to smack him for it. “Because you trust adults.”

“You’re an adult.”

“I’m only a few years older than you. It doesn’t count.” He stops before he pulls open the door, waiting for Jim to go around the car. “Promise me.”

“Fine. I’ll look for someone.” Jim isn’t going to make any promises and say that he’ll _find_ somebody, because, let’s be honest, that isn’t gonna happen. He’s been fucked over enough times to know that.

“Thank you.”

They both climb in and Spock doesn’t even look back at Jim. He just starts the car. “To where am I to take us now?”

“Up the hill.” Something beeps at Bones’s waist, and he tugs it out as they pull from the parking lot. “It’s the best place to go. Jim’ll show you.”

“Me?” Jim fumbles with his seat belt. “Why?”

“Because.” Bones grins at him through the mirror. “I just got called for my first medical emergency.”

“What? But you aren’t even a real doctor!”

“Not yet. But I will be.” Bones gestures to the side of the road. “Drop me off, Spock.”

“Are you sure, Doctor?”

“Yeah.”

“I am more than capable of dropping you off at the university. The stars will certainly not go out before then.”

“I messaged Scotty back on my pager. He can give me a ride.”

“Scotty’s studying engineering,” says Jim.

“You know him. He’s always up and ready to help. Spock, pull over.”

“If you wish, Doctor.”

Jim feels sick to his stomach. Spock seems so disappointed. Jim wanted to be with Spock but now that he knows that Spock and Bones are a thing, _god_. Now it’s going to be terrible being alone with Spock because then that means Spock is going to be disappointed the entire time with Jim.

“Bye, Spock. Jim.”

“Bye,” says Jim, sulking.

“Live long and--”

“Yeah, yeah, Spock. See you around.”

Then Bones is gone and Jim is left alone in the car with Spock.

“If you would like to move up front,” says Spock hesitantly, “You may.”

“Uh, thanks. But that seems like a hassle. I’m okay back here.”

“Very well.” Spock moves the car away from the curb and Jim slides downward in his seat, tucking his chin against his chest. “What did you and Bones purchase at the convenience store?”

“The usual.”

“I do not know what that is, Jim.”

“Uh. We got a few kinds of snacks for you to try. I got some juice boxes. Bones got tea.”

“Yes. I do the see the tea. He must have forgotten it.”

“Spock,” says Jim, playing with the plastic bag in his lap, “I’m really sorry.”

“For what are you apologizing, Jim?”

“I don’t know.” Jim presses his head against the glass of the car, like that will cool the fire burning inside his brain. “I don’t know. Everything.”

{}

Spock does not know how to speak to Jim.

He suspects there is something wrong--or perhaps that _he_ is doing something wrong--because Jim is keeping is sentences uncharacteristically concise. He does not know how to speak to Jim, and he does not know how to repair the situation, either.

He wishes the doctor had not left. If he was here, he could be doing all the talking. Jim seemed at least a little more comfortable in the doctor’s presence, but now that shred of comfort was gone, and they both sat in the car in silence.

“Would you like some music?” Spock asks.

“What kind?” Jim’s voice is very quiet.

“I do not know. I do not listen to music.”

“We’re almost there, anyway.”

Spock cannot see Jim’s face, but he sounds almost forlorn.

“Take a left here.”

Spock turns the steering wheel carefully. He wishes he could speak to Jim normally, but Jim is all emotion. Jim seems to depend entirely on emotion. Spock does not know what to do with that.

“Pull into this parking lot here,” says Jim suddenly, and Spock almost misses it. “This is the best place to stargaze.”

“Do you do this often?”

“Every now and then. Bones isn’t really a fan, but sometimes Sulu or Chekov will come up with me.”

“And they do enjoy it?”

“Yeah. That’s what they say, anyway.”

“Do you not believe them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Jim climbs out of the car and Spock, clumsily, follows suit. “Grab the tea.”

“Yes, of course.” Spock takes the bag and trails after Jim, who moves with both grace and determination toward what looks like a bench in the distance. “How often do you do this?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes.” Jim drops into the bench and kicks his feet out, dropping the plastic bag that he had in his hand down to the ground. “Sit down.”

Spock sits. He holds the tea in his lap, hands tight around the bottles.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Any star-watching on Vulcan is done with a scientific purpose,” Spock says, tilting his head back a little. “We do not stargaze for pleasure. We do not do much at all for pleasure.”

“What about you? Do you do anything for pleasure?”

Spock looks at Jim, but the other boy does not do the same. He only continues to look up at the sky, a small smile on his face. “No.”

“Really?” Jim moves his gaze down now, toward Spock. The glint of starlight in his eyes makes a foolish thought flit through Spock’s head: _There is a universe in that boy._

“My father wanted me to concentrate on my studies,” says Spock, once he’s clears his throat and that thought from his mind. “Leisurely activities were far from encouraged.”

“Well, look at the sky. Just for a second. And not scientifically or anything.”

Spock looks. He looks at the stars and the big black emptiness and the tiny little red glowing orb that makes something in his chest hurt. “I do not see what is to be gained from this,” he says after a moment, tearing his gaze from Vulcan.

“You took those pictures, didn’t you?”

Spock frowns. “What pictures?”

“You know. The ones of Vulcan. Outside your bedroom.”

“I do not see how this is relevant.”

“Why did you take those pictures?”

Spock is unable to come up with an answer, so instead he just waits for Jim to continue.

“You took them because you enjoy how pretty Vulcan is. And you can enjoy how pretty space is, too.” Jim bends down and digs through the plastic bag at his feet, coming up again with a small cardboard box in his hand. “You want one?”

“What is it?”

“Juice box.”

“A box of juice?”

Jim grins. “Yeah. My favorite. It’s, uh.” He tilts the box in his hand, squinting. “It’s fruit punch flavor. Is that okay?”

“I am willing to try it.”

Jim hands one over and Spock, after watching Jim, peels off the straw and sticks it into the tiny little foil-covered opening. “How does space make you feel?”

“How does it make me _feel_?” He sips at the juice and is surprised to find that it is actually quite delicious. It is a little sweet, but it would be an acceptable replacement for those baked goods Amanda made for the three of them to eat after dinner. “It does not make me feel anything.”

“Oh, come on. Everything makes everybody feel something.”

“No. Those who succeeded in kolinahr do not have any emotions.”

“I wasn’t talking about only emotions. What about, I don’t know, curiosity? Wonder? Amazement?”

“I feel…” Spock sighs and looks up at the dark sky again. “I feel small,” he admits at last.

“Small,” Jim repeats.

“Yes. There is much to be explored in space still. There are so many cultures that exist--there are so many beings who live. It is unrealistic to expect that I would make any sort of significant impact on any of them.”

“Significant impacts don’t have to be on a large amount of people,” Jim says gently.

“This is true. Significance is a matter of opinion. However, in Vulcanian culture, one’s name must be remembered in order for them to be considered impactful. Otherwise, nothing was done in their life to make them worth remembering.”

“Holy shit.” Jim’s voice is soft. “God, you’re just. You’re so sad all the time.”

“I am not sad, Jim.”

“How can you stand it? You have emotion. You’re not like other Vulcans. But you just. You’re suppressing that all the time and pretending that you are. How can you even stand that?”

Spock stiffens and moves to stand up.

“Wait.” Jim catches his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“You do not understand what it is that I go through, Jim,” Spock says, “And therefore do not understand the situation. I fail to comprehend why you think you have the authority to question my decisions.”

“I’m sorry.” Jim’s voice cracks as he says this, and he drops his hand back to his side. Spock’s arm feels cold. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, okay? I don’t know how to talk to people.”

“You are human,” says Spock. “I should have taken that into account.”

Jim sniffles and sucks at his juice box.

“I am sorry as well, Jim.”

“What? Why?”

“I directed my outburst toward you. I should not have.”

“What outburst?”

“I…” Spock does not know how to explain this. Was it not obvious?

“Uh, whatever it was,” says Jim, “You’re forgiven.” He waits for a moment, sucking at the juice box. “Where’s Vulcan?”

Spock points it out. “The red one. It is dim, but if you look carefully, you should be able to see it.”

“How much longer until you get to go home?”

“A week and a half, if everything goes to plan.”

“Hm.” Jim bends down and pulls out two more juice boxes, one of which goes to Spock, but Spock is not yet done with his first. He is a little overwhelmed with how much juice Jim is able to consume in just a short amount of time. “Hey, wanna take a picture?”

“Of what?”

“Us.”

Spock sets down his juice box. “Why?”

“I don’t know. So you can remember?”

“I am not accustomed to taking pictures of myself.”

“I can take the picture. You have nothing to worry about.” Jim pulls his phone out of his pocket and scoots closer to Spock, lifting one hand to his face.

“What are you doing?” asks Spock, concerned.

“I’m making a peace sign. It’s a pose. You should do it, too. It’ll make you look cooler. And less concerned.”

“I don’t look concerned.”

“Yes, you do. Make the peace sign. Come on.” Jim wiggles the two fingers he has up and Spock lifts two fingers of his own, slowly, to his face. “No. You can’t have your fingers together. They have to be apart to make it a peace sign. Here.” He reaches over and parts Spock’s fingers. Spock finds it hard to move.

“Relax your hand,” says Jim, and Spock allows his hand to go limp. “Okay. Now stiffen it again.” His face is very close and he’s smiling. His cheeks are pink. “There you go.”

“I do not understand why I’m doing this,” says Spock.

“Use it to cover your mouth. Now look to the left.”

Spock follows Jim’s instructions.

“Amazing,” says Jim. “Now stay. Just like that. Wait, no. Look right.”

Spock moves his eyes.

“Perfect.” Jim moves even closer to Spock and lifts both hands, one with the so-called ‘peace sign’, the other with the phone. “And…” A flash emits from the phone. “Done. You can drop your hand, now.” He displays the screen to Spock. “You like it?”

Spock tilts his head. “It is...different.” He has seen himself in pictures before, but somehow this picture seems different. It does not display the hard set his mouth usually has, as his hand covers his lips. But his hand in the picture--so close to Jim’s, as well--makes Spock embarrassed.

“I’ll send it to you,” says Jim. “What’s your number?”

Wordlessly, Spock passes his phone over. Jim finds the number and hands it back, and soon Spock feels it buzz with the picture.

“Just in case you forget,” says Jim.

“What is it that I will forget?”

“What it’s like here on Earth.”

“I could never forget Earth,” says Spock. “It has made an impact on me already.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Spock looks at the sky again, unable to meet Jim’s eyes. “Thank you, Jim.”

Jim nudges his shoulder against Spock’s. “Anytime, man.”

 

After a few hours, they both climb into the car again. Jim sits in the front with Spock and his head drops onto Spock’s shoulder when he falls asleep.

Spock stops in front of Jim’s house. H waits for a moment, then hesitantly reaches over and touches Jim’s knee. “Jim. We are outside your house.”

Jim winces away from him and seems to curl in on himself.

“Is something wrong?”

Jim, suddenly, begins to cry.

“We do not have class tomorrow,” says Spock carefully. “Perhaps you would prefer to stay with me at my house?”

Jim rubs at his nose. “Your… your parents, though.”

“My father is in a  meeting and will be in said meeting until noon tomorrow, and my mother will not mind. Jim, if you do not feel safe…”

“I don’t wanna--” Jim shakes his head. “I just. I don’t…”

“Very well. You may stay with me.” Spock restarts the car and Jim begins crying again. “If you want to stay, Jim--”

“No,” the other boy says quickly, almost at a shout. Then, quieter: “No. Just for tonight, though. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Spock does not understand this expression, but he decides, looking over at Jim’s weary face, that now is not the right time to ask.

They drive for the few minutes it takes to get to Spock’s house in silence, and, when they arrive, Spock picks a sleeping Jim up in his arms and carries him to the door.

Amanda opens it with a strange expression on her face. “Who’s this?” Her voice is very quiet and low, but she seems to understand that Spock does not want to answer for fear of waking Jim, and instead of waiting for an answer just opens the door wider so Spock can step in.

He carries Jim to the bedroom. Amanda follows closely behind, and she pulls back the blankets so Spock can put Jim comfortably in the bed.

“Take off his shoes,” Amanda whispers. “He’ll be uncomfortable with them on.”

Spock, who grew up with shoes on, takes Jim’s off with surprisingly minimal confusion.

“Okay, here we go.” Now Amanda brings up the blanket and tucks it around Jim. Her hands are gentle and assured, and Spock wonders if she did this to him while he was younger, as well. “Let’s go outside and talk,” she murmurs, taking Spock’s shoulder, “Because I think you have some things to explain.”

A few minutes later, they are both curled up in front of the fireplace. Amanda has served herself some hot chocolate and Spock a cup of tea, but Spock’s drink is a little too warm for his tastes. He blows on it as he pulls off his cap and coat.

“So?” says Amanda. “Who is that? Why are they here?”

“That is Jim, Mother.”

“Jim,” she repeats, and Spock realizes he did not tell her about the transition from calling Jim ‘Kirk’ and calling him ‘Jim.'

“Kirk. James Tiberius Kirk. We conversed about him before.”

“Right. I remember. What are you two doing together at three in the morning?”

“We were stargazing.”

Amanda’s smile is wide. “Oh?”

“Yes.”

“And why isn’t Jim at home right now?”

“I am not at liberty to disclose that information. When he wakes, the two of you can converse if he finds it an acceptable topic.”

“Okay. I won’t pressure you. Just one more question.”

“Yes, Mother?”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“I…” Spock sips at his tea and winces. “I was under the assumption that I would be sleeping in my own bed.”

“But Jim is in there.”

“Yes. There is room enough for two.”

Amanda begins laughing. “Spock, humans are very touchy about their personal space.”

“That has not been my experience.”

“Well, think of it this way.” She pauses for a moment, poking at the marshmallows in her cup. “Humans are okay with contact if you’re close, for one. And then there’s the handshaking which we won’t even… we won’t even talk about that yet. But then there’s stuff like when you’re sleeping? There’s a sort of intimacy involved with humans sleeping, Spock. If humans touch while sleeping, that means they’re close enough in their relationship to let down their guard while they’re with that person.”

“This cannot possibly apply to all situations,” says Spock.

“No, it doesn’t. But it does apply in this situation. Spock, I want you to listen to me.”

“I am listening, Mother, as I have been for the entirety of this conversation.”

Amanda smiles a little at this. “Honey, if you go in there and lie down next to Jim, he’s going to think you’re looking for a lot more in this relationship than friendship, because you haven’t known each other long enough for him to make any other assumption.”

“Mother, he.” Spock hesitates and Amanda leans forward.

“It isn’t like you to leave sentences incompleted.”

“He kissed me, mother.”

Amanda presses a hand to her mouth. “He did? When?”

“He has kissed me twice. The first time was on the lawn at the school. I was… fiddling, and he reached over and kissed me. And then, again, when he wanted to take a picture, he kissed me.”

Amanda starts giggling.

“I do not see how this is amusing, Mother.”

“Spock, he--” She dissolves into giggles again and almost spills her drink over her robe.

“You might want to put your mug down,” says Spock.

“You’re right. You’re right.” She sets it on the table in front of them and takes a couple deep breaths, probably slowing her heartbeat. “Spock. Humans do not kiss the same way that Vulcans do.”

“No?”

“Humans kiss on the mouth. I’ve kissed you before with my mouth. When it’s romantic, humans kiss each other’s mouths.”

“I… oh.” Spock isn’t entirely sure what to do with this information.

“He probably doesn’t know that Vulcans kiss with their hands, honey.”

“Oh.”

“Are you… disappointed?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Uh-huh.”

Spock, not looking up into her all-too-knowing eyes, sips anxiously at his hot chocolate.

“Sleep on the couch,” Amanda says. “I’ll bring out some extra pillows and blankets so you can be more comfortable. And Spock.”

“Yes?”

“I can speak to him, if you like. Jim. I’m sure it would be an awkward conversation between the two of you if you had to give him the sex talk.”

Spock can feel his cheeks turning dark green. “Mother, please.”

“Alright, alright. No need to get worked up.” She kisses him--with her mouth--on the top of his head. “Goodnight.”

“Have a good night, mother.”


	4. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Jim Kirk is gay?

Spock wakes up to a clatter in the kitchen. He sits up, rubbing his eyes blearily, and looks toward the kitchen. Jim is sitting at the counter and Amanda seems to be cooking something.

“Morning, Spock,” says Amanda cheerily. “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”

“My sleep was adequate.” Spock rises and walks to the counter. Jim, Spock’s comforter wrapped around his shoulders, smiles. “Hello, Jim.”

“Hi, Spock.”

“James and I decided on chocolate chip pancakes,” says Amanda. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“Perhaps you should make some plain pancakes.” Spock sits next to Jim, looking at the griddle on the stove warily.

“What, don’t like chocolate?” Jim grins. “Chocolate is so good, though.”

“I would prefer not to be intoxicated. I have things to accomplish today.”

“Intoxicated?”

Amanda laughs. “Chocolate is to Vulcans as alcohol is to humans, James. How about blueberries?”

“I would enjoy blueberry pancakes.”

“Spock,” says Jim quietly when Amanda goes to the pantry, “I’m sorry about, uh. Last night.”

“For what are you apologizing, Jim?”

“For falling asleep on you. For stealing your bed.” Jim lifts Spock’s comforter, revealing a familiar set of sleepwear. “For stealing your clothes.”

“Nothing was stolen. To steal something would require the intent to never again return it. Was this your goal?”

Jim presses his lips together. “I mean. I wasn’t planning on keeping any of this permanently.”

“If the occurrences of last night truly disturbed you,” says Spock, “Then you are forgiven, Jim.”

Amanda comes back, ladles the batter onto the griddle, and drops the blueberries in. “What’s your plan for today, boys?”

“I don’t know,” says Jim. “I don’t really make plans. I just, you know. Go for it. Do people usually make plans?”

Amanda hands him a couple chocolate chips. “Spock does.”

“Well, he’s Spock.”

Spock frowns.

“No offense,” says Jim, reaching over to pat Spock’s shoulder. “You’re super cool and way more put together than I am.”

Spock looks at Amanda and she widens her eyes a little. He cocks an eyebrow. She shakes her head. He tilts his head. She lifts her shoulders.

“I’m not sure what’s going on here,” says Jim, “But it’s honestly low-key freaking me out.”

“We’re just having a conversation,” Amanda explains. “If you catch Spock in the right mood, you can have an entire conversation with him without saying a single word. Got it from his father.”

“It is illogical to use words when one can simply communicate with gestures,” says Spock.

“Well, I think it’s illogical to gesture when you could’ve just used words. Less chance of confusion,” says Jim.

Spock stares at him.

“I’m just sayin’.”

“And you’re right, James. But Vulcans are known for being drama queens.”

“Unnecessarily rude,” says Spock.

“That wasn’t a complete sentence.” Amanda’s mouth twists into a smile and Spock does his best not to glare at her.

“I feel the two of you are attempting to…” He pauses, searching for a phrase that Amanda and Jim would both understand. “I feel the two of you are attempting to gang up on me.”

“What?” Jim gasps, hand flying to his chest. “I would _never_ gang up on _you_ , Spock!”

“And yet, I have a suspicion that it would bring you great pleasure.” Spock accepts the pancakes his mother hands him and pours a little syrup over them.

“You never said what your plans were,” says Amanda before Jim can continue the conversation. “You said you have things to accomplish.”

“Yes. I was planning to get some errands done.”

“Yeah? What kind?”

“We need groceries. I was also planning on speaking with Doctor Mccoy today.”

“What?” There’s something strange in Jim’s eyes. “Why?”

“We will converse about the project we worked on yesterday. It is due tomorrow, and he wanted me to check it. You may come, if you like, Jim.”

“Uh.” Jim shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth. Syrup dribbles on his chin. “I’m gonna call Uhura and Sulu and Chekov and see what they’re up to.”

“Very well. Would you like a ride to your destination?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“It is not a problem, Jim.”

Amanda is watching this entire exchange with a small smile on her face.

“I will go dress myself.” Spock, finished with breakfast, pushes away from the counter. “When can you be ready, Jim?”

“I take like. Two seconds to get dressed. I do only have one outfit.”

“Would you like to borrow something? I may some clothing that might fit you.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“I will return with clothing.”

{}

Jim hates himself.

This is partly to do with the fact that he really, really enjoys wearing Spock’s clothes and smelling Spock every time he breathes in. And partly to do with the fact that Spock is so perfect that even his fucking _mother_ is perfect--at the moment, she is making Jim a giant mug of hot chocolate. With whipped cream. And sprinkles.

He doesn’t remember ever feeling this loved--which. That’s ridiculous because there’s no way Mrs. Spock (Is that her name? Jim has no idea) _loves_ him.

And then, lastly (at least in this situation), Jim hates himself because even when he knows Spock and Bones are a thing, he still really, really likes Spock.

Like. A lot. A ridiculous amount.

“James,” says Mrs. Spock. Jim stiffens and looks up at her. Shit. Did he do something wrong? He did something wrong, didn’t he? “I wanted to talk to you about Spock.”

Jim doesn’t know what to do with this. Is he supposed to say something?

“More broadly,” says Mrs. Spock, “I want to talk with you about Vulcans.”

“Shit,” says Jim. Mrs. Spock smiles.

“Vulcans are touch-telepaths, James. Do you know what that means?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Vulcans, when they make skin-to-skin contact, create telepathic connections.”

Jim feels nauseated.

“For a connection to garner any information would require a contact lasting at least a few seconds.”

Oh. Well. That makes it better but not a whole lot better.

“And Spock usually pulls away before a connection is established,” Mrs. Spock adds. “So if you have any thoughts you want hidden from him, you’re safe.”

Jim chokes on his hot cocoa. “You--”

“You keep smelling his pajamas, James. You aren’t exactly hiding it.”

“God I’m going to kill myself,” Jim moans, dropping his head onto the counter.

“One more thing,” says Mrs. Spock, and Jim can hear the regret in her voice.

“Of course there’s one more thing.”

“I need to talk to you about how Vulcans kiss.”

Jim’s stomach lurches. He sets his mug of cocoa down and stares at Mrs. Spock.

“They, ah. They kiss with their hands, James. Their hands are actually the most sensitive part of their body.”

Jim has sudden flashbacks to every time he was going to or _did_ touch Spock’s hands. _That tingling feeling in the lawn._

“Oh, fuck.” He wants to crawl in a hole and never come out again. “God, he must think I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No. No, not at all. He just… well, he was a little confused. A little embarrassed. He didn’t know how to tell you.”

It’s at this moment--‘this moment’ being the height of Jim’s desire for death--that Spock walks back in with black slacks and a gray sweater.

“I do not have many traditional human clothing pieces,” he says, “But I hope these will suffice.” He comes over to Jim, who takes them with the brightest smile he can muster.

“Thanks, Spock.”

“You are most welcome, Jim.”

“And, uh. Thanks, Mrs. Spock, for breakfast.”

Spock and Mrs. Spock both stare at him. Mrs. Spock starts giggling.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“Spock is his first name,” says Mrs. Spock, covering her mouth to hide her smile. “You can just call me Amanda.”

“But that’s your first name. Wait.” Jim points at Spock. “Why does everybody call you by your first name at school? We’re supposed to go by last names.”

“You would not be able to pronounce my other names.”

“Really? Try me. I’m pretty handy with different languages.”

The noise that comes out of Spock’s mouth is--well, it’s inhuman.

“Okay, yeah. I have no idea how to say that.”

“Just call me Amanda,” says Amanda.

“Okay, uh. Thanks, Amanda.”

“You’re welcome, James.”

“I’m, uh.” Jim holds Spock’s clothes to his chest. “I’ll go get dressed.”

Spock drops Jim off at Sulu’s house, lifts his hand in that salute of his, and drives away.

Jim takes a moment to appreciate the clothes he has on. The slacks when he first saw them, looked stiff and uncomfortable. But now he has them on and they’re probably the softest pants he has ever touched. And the sweater--god, the _sweater_. Jim feels like he’s inside a cloud or something.

Also it smells like Spock.

He rubs the sleeve of the sweater across his cheek one more time before he walks up to Sulu’s door and knocks.

Uhura is the one who answers. “Hey, Captain.”

“Uhura.” Jim smiles and moves past her.

“You look cute.” She lightly taps his ass and he swats her hand away. “Look at those pants. Hot damn.”

Jim looks back at her and wiggles his ass a little. “I know. They’re great, right? Touch them.”

Uhura rubs her fingers over them. “Ooh. You’re right--they _are_ soft. Where’d you get them?”

“Thrift store,” says Jim. “Where’s everybody else?”

“In the living room. Is the sweater soft, too?”

“Oh my god. Uhura. It’s so fucking soft. Feel it.” He sticks his arm out as they walk and she runs her fingers over it.

“This is the best outfit you’ve ever worn, Captain. Holy shit.”

“I know.” Jim wants to wear it every day. Like, yes, he definitely misses the patterns, but come on. This is the softest thing.

Maybe Spock can get Jim shirts of this material in some funky patterns. That’d be pretty cool.

They enter the living room and spot Sulu and Chekov curled up on the couch. Jim drops down in the small space between them. “Hey, guys.”

“Holy shit,” says Sulu. “Pav, feel Kirk’s sweater.”

“And his pants.” Uhura sits next to Sulu and stretches her legs across the boys’ laps.

“And his _pants_ ,” says Sulu. “Holy shit! Pav, what do you think? Invented in Russia?”

Chekov nods. “Absolutely.”

“Good lord,” says Uhura. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging him.”

“It’s his thing.” Sulu reaches down and grabs the bowl of popcorn. “Let him have his thing.”

“Let me have my thing,” says Chekov.

“What are we doing today?”

“Oh, you know. Watching tv. Playing games. You know.” Uhura lifts a shoulder. “Generally wasting time.”

“We should invite Spock,” says Chekov. “Do you think he’s busy?”

“Yeah. He’s with Bones.”

Everybody looks at Jim.

Shit.

“That’s what Bones said,” says Jim. “I invited him to come join us, but he has something due tomorrow and needs Spock’s help.”

“I really like him,” says Uhura thoughtfully. The other two boys agree but Jim just stays silent, fuming for some unknown reason. “You know? He’s super nice and super honest.”

“But also he’s an absolute shit,” says Sulu.

“But he’s a _cute_ shit,” says Chekov.

Jim groans.

“Thy Captain doth protest too much,” says Sulu.

“I didn’t protest anything. I didn’t _say_ anything.”

“Well, that’s the point.” Uhura props her elbows on the arm of the couch and tilts her head at Jim. “You’re normally up to talk about cute boys with us.” Chekov nods.

“Yeah. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing’s up with that.”

“Well, the last time you were completely silent, we were talking about--what was her name?”

“Marcus,” says Chekov. “Carol Marcus.”

“Ah, yes. The love of your life, as I remember.”

“Was _not_.”

“You were swooning.”

“Oh,” says Sulu, “That’s when our dear old Captain thought he was into girls. And now he knows better.”

“Boys are cuter,” says Jim, folding his arms.

“I’m not arguing with you. I was actually defending you.”

“Thanks, Sulu.”

“Anytime, Captain.”

“So?” Uhura nudges Jim with her foot. “Do you like Spock or what?”

“No,” says Jim stubbornly.

“Alright. Okay. What do you want to watch?”

“Something gay.” Jim takes the corner of the blanket that Sulu has on his lap and tugs it over. “I want to lose myself in romance.”

“Yeah.” Chekov pats Jim’s knee sympathetically. “Our Captain’s gone.”

 

They waste time for a while and then they go to the little coffee shop at the end of the block. Sulu’s never been one for walking very far, so when his mother tells him the car’s unavailable, they just took the closest option.

“What do you want?” The barista leans across the counter lazily, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“Uh.” Jim scans the menu. “The… number four.”

“You want whip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“One of those chocolate muffins.”

She smacks her gum. “You got it. That’ll be eight credits even.”

Jim hands over a ten and tells her to keep the change.

They all walk together to the table by the window--Jim sits next to Uhura, and Sulu and Chekov sit across them. Chekov sips contemplatively at his iced tea. Surprisingly, he hasn’t said a word about the straws or the plastic cups or the tea itself. Last week he’d told everybody that ice was invented in Russia, but today he hasn’t said anything.

“Test on Monday,” says Uhura absently, swirling her latte. Jim grunts. “You study for it?”

“No.”

“If you fail--”

Jim shrugs and Uhura falls silent.

“Hey,” says Sulu. “Is that Spock? And Bones?”

Jim’s stomach curls and he almost loses his coffee all over the table.

“Let’s call them over,” says Uhura, turning around and lifting a hand. “Hey! Spock! Bones! Come sit with us!”

A couple seconds later, chairs are being dragged over and Spock is like two inches away from Jim. He can’t breathe.

“Get all done studying?” asks Sulu. “Captain said you have a huge assignment due tomorrow.”

“Due at midnight,” Bones corrects. “And, yeah, it’s done. Spock is a lifesaver.”

“No,” says Spock, “A grade-saver, perhaps, but not a lifesaver.”

“Whatever,” says Bones. “You know I don’t dwell on technicalities.”

“This much is obvious, Doctor.”

“Throwing shade,” says Sulu.

“ _Anyway_.” Bones glares at both Sulu and Spock and then looks over at Jim and Uhura. “What are you all up to?”

“Chilling,” says Uhura. “You know, just. Relaxing.”

“Spock doesn’t know how to relax. He’s so fucking uptight. All. The. Time.”

Spock shrugs. “I am as relaxed as I need to be in each situation.”

“Bullshit. We’re sitting in a coffee shop and look at you!” Bones poked Spock’s back with two fingers. “You’re fuckin’ tense, man.”

“I am not tense. I have good posture.”

Something touched Jim’s leg and he looked down. It was Uhura’s hand. She gave him a sympathetic smile.

 _What?_ he mouthed. Her smile got more sympathetic. Ugh. Was he really that obvious? He wasn’t smelling his clothes anymore. That had to count for something.

“Before I forget, Jim,” says Spock, “You left your clothes in my room, so my mother washed them, and they are in my car now, if you would like them back.”

Everybody just. Looks at Jim. His face feels hot. Bones has both eyebrows raised, Uhura’s mouth is open, Sulu and Chekov are opening and closing their mouths like fish, and Spock is just acting like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Your clothes,” says Bones at last, “Were in Spock’s room.”

“Jim stayed the night,” says Spock. “Did he not tell you?”

“Didn’t get the chance to talk,” Jim mumbles. He takes his coffee and starts chugging it to avoid continuing the conversation. It burns his tongue and throat but he keeps chugging because he isn’t _weak_ , dammit.

“Uh, no. Pretty sure we had all morning to talk.” Uhura’s hand is no longer on Jim’s leg. “And you didn’t say anything.”

“I do not see the problem, here,” says Spock, resting his elbows on the table. “What is it that so disturbs you?”

“Just wondering why Jim didn’t tell us about staying with you,” says Uhura. She reaches over and takes the almost-empty mug from Jim’s hands. “Slow down, honey. You’re going to burn yourself.”

“Perhaps he was embarrassed. Seldom do I understand human emotion, but I do at least comprehend shame.”

Jim picks up his mug again and drains the rest of his coffee. “That’s it,” says Jim. “Shame. I feel asleep and I was embarrassed about it.”

“Uh-huh.” Bones looks between Jim and Spock a few times. “How did stargazing go?”

Jim is going to kill Bones.

“Stargazing,” Uhura repeats. “That’s… cute.”

He knows she means it, but he also knows that it means a lot more than what’s on the surface. Uhura is about ten seconds away from pulling Jim aside and bombarding him with questions. _What does he mean ‘stargazing’? Did anything happen? Why didn’t you tell us about staying the night at Spock’s house? Did anything happen there?_

God, he’s going to fucking kill Bones.

“I have never gazed so pointlessly at the stars,” says Spock calmly, looking at Bones, “Though I must say there was something to be gained from it.”

“Yeah?”

“It was… fascinating.”

“Fascinating,” Bones echoes. He shakes his head. “My god, man. Can’t you just enjoy something?”

“Stargazing was most certainly enjoyable.”

“Can’t you just say ‘we had fun’?”

Spock frowns. “‘Fun’ is not a thing that I have ever had, nor is it something I plan to have.”

“Oh, boy,” Jim mumbles. He pushes his chair backward. “I’m just going to go refill my coffee.” And possibly just bail on everybody. As much as Jim loves hanging out with Bones and Spock, he doesn’t want to hang out with them _together_ . Because then all he hears are the hidden innuendos--all he sees are those tiny curls at the corners of Spock’s mouth. Jim’s taken to watching Spock’s hands, too--they’re slender and they look so soft (Jim _knows_ they’re soft) and when they’re cold, they’re tinged a pretty shade of green.

Ugh. Snap out of it, asshole.

“Jim.”

“Fuck.” Jim jumps back when the coffee sloshes out of his cup, almost staining his--Spock’s--sweater. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

“My apologies, Jim.” Spock shifts on his feet “And my apologies if I ashamed you in front of your peers.”

“My friends, Spock. They’re my friends.”

Spock reaches over and picks up a sugar packet

“Anyway,” says Jim without really knowing why, "Are you even really sorry? Or are you just saying that?”

Spock blinks. “I was under the assumption that apologies--”

“Yeah,” says Jim, giving a harsh laugh. “I thought so.” He drains what little amount of coffee he’d prepared for himself and puts the cup into the bin on top of the trash can. “See you around, Spock.”

“Jim--”

But Jim’s the king of drama and he’s already out the door.

 

Bones calls Jim about an hour after his dramatic exit, opening with: “You made Spock upset.”

Jim has to remind himself how expensive phones are so he won’t throw his. “Hey, Bones.”

“I don’t know what you said, but he’s been sulking since you left.”

“Vulcans don’t sulk.”

“Well, this one does. And he isn’t full Vulcan, anyway.”

“I don’t know, Bones. I’m just. I’m really tired.”

“Thankfully, Bones stops talking about Spock. “Do you want to meet? We can talk. I know I haven’t been around as much as I used to--”

“It’s okay, Bones. I get it. You’re busy. You’ve got school and everything. College is hard. I get it.”

“I’m free now, though. We can talk.”

“You, uh. You have fun with everybody. I think I’m coming down with a migraine anyway. Gonna hit the sack and all that jazz.”

“Jim, I know when you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“What’s going on between you and Spock? Because I know something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Jim.”

“Don’t ‘Jim’ me. You know I hate that.”

“I don’t want you two fighting.”

“Nobody’s fighting. I told you--I’m just coming down with a migraine.”

“Whatever, Jim. Call me when you finally pull your head out of your ass.”

The other line clicks off and Jim stands in the street for a moment. His chest feels like it’s on fire and being crushed all at once. God, why couldn’t he just _get_ it _together_? Why can’t he just let it go? Bones was older and more accomplished and was going to be a _doctor_ and he was a lot funnier than Jim, anyway--fuck, why _wouldn’t_ Spock like Bones more?

He kicks at a rock and it falls into a puddle. The muddy water splashes onto Jim’s pants.

“Fuck.” He brushes anxiously at the dark spot, but it won’t disappear. Of course he ruins Spock’s pants. Just another reason for Spock to hate him.

His phone rings again. He looks at the screen.

It’s Spock.

Should he answer it? Fuck, he doesn’t know. Jim never makes good decisions in the heat of the moment.

He looks down at the screen. His thumb hovers over the button, hesitating.

He taps the screen, refusing the call. Spock will be gone in a week and a half and all of this will be over. Everything can go back to normal.

{}

“If I may inquire, Doctor,” says Spock, “Why is it no one attended school today?”

The doctor looks up from scowling at his phone. “Holiday,” he says in that gruff voice he gets when he is frustrated. “It’s some important guy’s birthday, so we get the day off.”

“Are we meant to celebrate?” Spock knows that humans celebrate the day of their birth, but no one seems to be celebrating today.

“Nah,” the doctor says. “Just relax and enjoy your day off. Tomorrow you’ll have to go back to school.”

Spock flips his phone over in his hands. The ‘call rejected’ notification still glows on his screen.

The doctor is watching him. “He’ll come around.”

“Pardon me?”

“Jim. He’ll come around.”

“I do not understand.”

“I know you like him, but you don’t need to worry. He won’t stay mad at you forever.”

“It does not need to be forever,” says Spock, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can stop them. “I am returning to Vulcan in ten days.”

The doctor makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Did you not just attempt that?”

“Yeah, but that was over the phone. I’ll talk to him in person. It’s even harder for him to lie when you’re looking right at his face.

“I must have done something wrong,” says Spock absently.

“What? Why?”

“He seemed… angry at me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Spock. Seriously. I’ll talk to him.”

“I only meant to apologize, but I think I phrased something incorrectly.”

“Spock.” The doctor rubs at his face. “Jim is… I don’t know. He’s got a lot of problems. Sometimes his brain just fucks him over and there really isn’t any other explanation. It probably wasn’t you, Spock. It was just his self-hatred taking over.”

“Self-hatred,” Spock repeats.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Jim hates himself?”

“Forget I said that.”

“I cannot forget something on command, Doctor.”

“That’s not--” The doctor drops his head onto the table. They are alone, now--Sulu, Nyota, and Chekov all moved on to do other things about half an hour ago, Nyota giving Spock a quick pat on the shoulder, Chekov beaming wide, and Sulu offering a firm nod. The doctor had not yet finished his coffee--it must be cold by now--so Spock stayed with him. “Spock, when people say ‘forget about it’ or ‘forget that’ or something, that means that you don’t bring it up again. To anyone. It means…” He stops, thinking. “You’re supposed to disregard it. Okay?”

“If you insist, Doctor.”

The doctor picks at his scone. “He’s been acting weird ever since... Wait. Oh, shit.”

“Is there something the matter?” asked Spock, concerned.

“Uh. I think I know what’s up with Jim. Can you give me a lift?”

“Of course. To where?”

“Jim’s house. That’s probably where he went--his step-dad is at work so he probably just crashed.”

“If he is sleeping, perhaps we should not bother him.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Perhaps we should--”

“Come on, Spock.” The doctor grabs Spock’s elbow and pulls him upward. “Let’s go. We need to talk to Jim.”

“Doctor, you said ‘we’.”

“I know. Believe it or not, I know what comes out of my mouth.”

“I was under the impression that I was only providing the ride.”

“I thought Vulcans didn’t make assumptions.”

“It was a logical conclusion!”

“It was an assumption, Spock.”

Spock allows himself to be pulled to the car.

 

Jim does not answer the door for the first few minutes that the doctor knocks. Spock tries to convince him that this is not the right time to be conversing with Jim, but the doctor brushes him off.

“He’ll wake up soon. Give him a minute. God, you have no patience.”

They give Jim at least six minutes, and then the door is opening and Jim, in mismatched sleepwear, is standing in front of them, rubbing his eyes.

“Are those…” The doctor takes a step back and looks Jim up and down. “Your pants have ducks on them.”

“Yeah.” Jim lifts a leg. “Poultry is terrifying but I thought these were kinda cute. What do you think?”

“I think it’s weird you went to sleep at three in the afternoon.”

Jim leans against the doorway. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to clear some stuff up,” says the doctor, and Spock lifts a paper bag.

“You also forgot to take your clothes back.”

Jim’s glabella creases and he leans forward to take the bag from Spock’s hands. “I haven’t washed your clothes yet.”

“Those were Spock’s clothes?”

“No,” says Jim, just as Spock verbalizes the confirmation. The doctor rolls his eyes.

“You may keep the clothing, Jim. It does not fit me properly anyway.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” says the doctor, sliding between them. “We wanted to clear up a few things. First off, Jim, Spock and I were _studying_.”

Jim’s skin gets that pink tint that so often graces his cheeks. “I know.”

“We aren’t involved.”

“Involved?” says Spock.

“Yeah.” The doctor looks at him. “Jim thought, for some god-awful reason, that we were together.”

“Together?”

“Good lord. He thought we were dating or hooking up or something, Spock. Sex.”

“Oh.” Spock can feel his own cheeks getting green.

“Yeah. See, Jim? We weren’t involved.”

Jim takes a step backward. “I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re going to talk to Spock and figure out your feelings and I’m going to walk to the nearest bus stop and think about why I made friends with a freshman when I was a fucking senior in high school. Got that? Good.”

“I can give you a ride, Doctor,” Spock says, and he knows that he sounds like he is trying to get out of the situation, but also that is exactly what he is attempting to do.

“Ha-ha. No. I know what you’re up to, asshole. You’re not weaseling your way out of this one.”

“I have never--”

“Just, god. Spock. Talk to Jim. Jim, talk to Spock. Now good _bye_.”

He walks down the walkway and crosses the street. Neither Jim nor Spock says anything for a good long two and a half minutes. Then Jim says, “Do you, uh. Wanna come in?”

Spock, not trusting himself to speak out loud and not say something that will make everything go wrong, just nods. Jim backs away so Spock can step in. They walk together to Jim’s living room and sink onto the couch.

“So, uh.” Jim sticks his digitus mi’nimus ma’nus into a frayed hole of his pants and scratches at his knee.

“Why did you think that the doctor and I were involved sexually?”

Jim coughs. His face is bright red. “I don’t know. Paranoia? Also he makes you smile.”

“So do you, Jim.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And for more often than does the doctor.”

Jim slides down the couch until his neck is bent at an awkward angle and his lower body hangs off the edge of the seat. He pulls at the frayed hole and it rips, getting a little bigger. “So you don’t like him?”

“Whether or not I ‘like’ him is too difficult a question for me. What I can tell you is that I prefer his company over many other people, and that I prefer your company over his.”

“Why?”

“You remind me of my home.”

Jim makes a face. “What? How?”

“Vulcan is very warm. And, while I am constantly surrounded by logic, I am also regularly reminded of the mystery of the universe. Vulcans still do not fully understand the complexities of our planet, and that is comforting to me. I will always pursue knowledge, but I never want to get to the point where I--or anybody else--knows everything at once. Where is the beauty of life but in the pursuit of the unknown?”

“So… you like hanging out with me because you don’t understand me.”

“To simplify my earlier statement, yes. But it is far more complex than that, Jim. I prefer your company over anybody else’s because you astonish me. You remind me that there is so much more to the world than knowledge. You gaze at the stars for no reason at all. You drink the moisture of fruits from laminated cardboard boxes, through plastic straws smaller than the width of a pencil. You let your emotions consume you, even when you know it will not serve you. Jim, you take everything from life that you can, and that is… it is astonishing to me.”

“Lots of people do the stuff that I do,” Jim mumbles. “And I don’t take everything out of life. I’m a loser. You know that.”

“I do not ‘know’ that. You may not actively pursue knowledge, but instead you embrace everything that makes you human. You embrace emotions. You embrace illogical actions. Why do you gaze at the stars if not to learn something from them? I was… puzzled, but you have shown me life in ways I would not have considered without meeting you.”

“But.” Jim shakes his head. “Lots of people do that shit. It isn’t just me. _Bones_ does that shit.”

“Nobody but you makes me feel this wonder for the universe, Jim. Not even the doctor.” Spock looks down at his hands--his hands which Jim kissed only yesterday, even if he did not mean to do so. “I do not fully understand this situation, Jim. All I know is that you make me feel as if I am on Vulcan again, looking out at the world from my bedroom window. I do not know how to describe this feeling. Perhaps I would not have it if I was not half human, but I also… do not resent having it.”

Then Jim is reaching over and his hand connects with Spock’s and Spock feels a wonderful warm feeling that races up his arm and into his chest, consuming him entirely.  He looks at Jim with wide eyes.

“If you don’t mind,” says Jim quietly, “I can show you how humans kiss?”

Spock does not say anything. He just looks between Jim and their joined hands. The sensation is so strong he does not know how to deal with it. He has never felt something like this before. He wants to feel this for the rest of his life.

Jim leans in with his entire body. His face gets close and then, strangely, he presses his mouth against Spock’s mouth.

His lips are soft. Spock is afraid to move. He is afraid to breathe.

Jim leans back again. He is smiling. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Spock just looks down at their joined hands again.

“Oh. Shit. Is that--” Jim lifts his fingers away and Spock gasps at the loss of that feeling. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I knew your hands were sensitive but I didn’t think they were _that_ sensitive.”

Spock lifts two fingers. “Vulcans only kiss with their digitus secundus manus and their digitus me’dius.”

“Oh.” Jim lifts the same two fingers and Spock touches them together, just for a brief moment.

“Full hand contact is… it is overpowering.”

Jim grins. This is not the reaction that Spock was expecting. “Holding hands is such a big part of liking somebody. Sorry.”

“Perhaps we could avoid hand-holding.”

Jim laughs. “Yeah, maybe. But you wanna make out?”

“I do not know what that means.”

“It’s, uh.” Jim reaches over and touches Spock’s wrist, so lightly it tingles. “It’s like kissing for humans? But a lot of it.”

“I would be willing to try that.”

“Awesome.” Jim lifts one leg and spins around, finally dropping it on the other side of Spock so that he is straddling Spock’s lap. Spock raises one eyebrow. “God. How do you do that?”

“How do I do what?”

“The eyebrow thing. Most people, when they raise their eyebrows, it’s just like ‘oh they’re raising an eyebrow’ but for you? I don’t know. Somehow it seems to say so much more.”

Spock allows himself a smile. “My mother always said that my father and I communicated through eyebrow raises.”

“That’s so cute.”

“Cute?”

Jim presses his mouth against Spock’s again. He tastes like chocolate. “You’re cute,” he whispers, and Spock can feel the words on his lips. “You’re so, so cute. Everything about you.”

“I thought the word ‘cute’ applied to small animals,” says Spock. Jim’s shoulders start shaking and he rests his forehead against the top of Spock’s head.

“Yeah, okay. But also it’s like. It means you’re attractive.”

“You find small animals attractive?”

“No! No. It means attractive in like. I wanna hug that and keep it forever kind of way.”

Spock processes this. “It is endearingly attractive, then.”

“Oh my god. Fine. Sure. You’re hot, Spock, okay?”

“Hot? I am quite comfortable, actually. Earth is much cooler than Vulcan.”

“I feel like you’re doing this on purpose.”

This time, it is Spock who kisses Jim. He touches Jim’s hand and presses his lips, tentatively, against Jim’s mouth. “I would never.”

“You are! God, I knew you were a little shit. Nobody believed me, but I knew it.”

“A what?”

“A little shit,” Jim says. “I only say it because I lo--because I like you.” He hooks an arm around the back of Spock’s neck. “A lot.”

“You cannot possibly like me very much. We’ve only just met.”

“Yeah, well, that’s never stopped me before.” Jim’s chest is flat against Spock’s, and Spock can feel heat radiating from Jim’s skin. “You like me, though, right?”

“I thought that much was obvious.”

“And what do you think about kissing?”

“The human way? I think I enjoy it. It is odd, however, that humans kiss with the same part of their body that they use to consume food.”

“That’s not weird. It’s… intimate. You guys use the same body part to kiss that you use to do literally anything, so. Checkmate.”

“Either way, Jim, I am enjoying myself.”

“Nice. Me too.” Jim kisses Spock and sighs against his mouth.

“I find it difficult to understand why you thought I would be involved with the doctor,” says Spock after a moment. Jim groans.

“Oh my god, Spock. Don’t talk about Bones right now.”

“If you so wish, Jim.”

Jim smiles. He has such a wonderful smile, Spock thinks. It is gentle and does not move his mouth much, but it makes his entire face light up. It makes Spock feel lighter inside. And then Jim presses even closer to Spock and Spock feels something against his thigh that doesn’t feel nearly as soft as the rest of Jim and he opens his mouth to inquire about it--

Somebody clears their throat. Jim pulls away from Spock’s mouth and turns around.

“ _Georgie?_ ”

There’s a young man standing on the other side of the room, backpack slung around his shoulder, long hair tousled and unruly. One side of his mouth quirks up. “I thought I told you not to call me that, _Jimmy_.”

“Holy shit.” Jim slides off of Spock and jumps upward, running toward the man. “I--where have you been?”

“I haven’t even been gone for that long, Jim, Christ.” The man wraps his arms around Jim and lifts him into the air, even though the height difference is near negligible. “Look at you. So tall.”

“You keep disappearing,” says Jim. “Why wouldn’t I be worried? And it was four days this time, George. Last time it was only two.”

“I thought I would switch it up a little.” The man tosses his backpack into the kitchen and combs his fingers through his hair. “You should come with me next time. It’ll be fun.”

“George, you know I--”

“Sticking around for mom still, huh? You know, if we both leave, she won’t have any reason to stay either. We’re holding her down as much as she’s holding us down.” George grins--his smile is not near as beautiful as Jim’s--and nods toward Spock. “Who’s that?”

“Oh! Uh.”

Spock stands. “My name is Spock. I am Jim’s friend.”

“Friend,” George repeats. He laughs and holds up his hand in a ta'al. Surprised, Spock returns the gesture. “Sure. Jim doesn’t usually make out with his friends, but yeah, sure. Friend.” He nudges Jim, who’s a little red. “You might wanna go take a cold shower, lil’ bro.”

Jim blushes an even deeper red and then he flees, leaving Spock alone with George.

“I don’t know if he mentioned me at all,” the other man says, “But I’m Jim’s older brother George.”

“He has mentioned you. He was quite concerned when you disappeared.”

“I’ve ‘disappeared’ a lot.” Here George makes air quotes with his fingers--thicker and coarser than Jim’s. “He should be used to it by now.”

“Becoming accustomed to pain does not denote the damage done. Perhaps you should be more concerned with how you are affecting Jim than whether or not he is used to it.”

George looks at Spock for a long time. “I like you,” he says at last. “How long have you and my brother been together?”

Spock checks his watch. “Seven minutes, give or take, has passed since Jim first consciously kissed me.”

“Okay. Wow. That raises a lot of questions.” George shakes his head as he comes to take a seat on the couch. “Uh, first off. What do you mean ‘consciously kissed’ you?”

“He has kissed me on accident before. He did not know that Vulcans kissed with their hands.”

George starts laughing and doesn’t stop. He laughs until he has doubled over and his face is bright red. Jim comes to stand behind him, glowering, toweling off his wet hair. “Both of you hate me,” he says. “I knew it.”

“I do not hate you, Jim,” says Spock.

“No, I’m pretty sure you do. Because you and my older brother are laughing about how much of an idiot I am. You both hate me.”

“Nah. We love you, really.” George angles his body to better look at Jim. “I like this kid, Jim. Why have you been keeping him from me?”

Jim’s gaze darts to Spock. “I wasn’t keeping him from you.”

“Well, you must have been.”

“Uh… no.”

“What, did you guys meet yesterday or something?”

“No,” says Jim. “It was Monday, actually.”

“Oh. Well, that’s better. The day before yesterday.”

“Not necessarily,” says Spock. “If you include our encounter online, then we met on Sunday.”

“Okay, fine. You’ve known each other for three days.”

“Is that judgment I hear in your voice?”

“No. No judgement.”

Jim narrows his eyes and walks over to Spock, his hand snaking around Spock’s fingers. Spock hisses at him. “ _Jim_.”

“Right. Sorry.”

George starts laughing again and Jim flings a throw pillow at him.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

“You were _laughing_.”

“I was laughing at a private joke. Nothing more.”

“Ugh.” Jim, very carefully, wraps his hand around Spock’s wrist, where the sleeve covers his skin. “Come on, Spock. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“The park is pretty empty at this time of day. That big oak tree is the traditional makeout spot. But, Jim.”

“I don’t really want to hear what you have to say,” says Jim, pulling Spock toward the door.

“You might wanna slow down a little. If you get a hard-on just from making out, you’ve got a problem.”

“I hate you, George.”

“I thought you missed me.”

Jim raises his digitus me’dius--a gesture that Spock remembers Nyota calling ‘flipping one off’. He does not know what it entails, but he suspects it has something to do with the human emotion of frustration. “Come on, Spock,” he says again. “And Georgie? When I get back, you better not have left again.”

“I’m staying right here, Jimmy.”

 

They take George’s advice and go make out in the park, under a towering oak tree whose leaves mostly obscure their bodies. While Jim kisses Spock’s mouth, he also kisses his hands--he leans over Spock’s body and gently strokes Spock’s fingers. At one point, his tongue slips into Spock’s mouth, which makes Spock jerk back in surprise, but Jim apologizes profusely until Spock consents to trying that again (“Though I do not comprehend why or how humans came upon this habit, Jim. Do you know you taste like chocolate?”)

Then it is time to return home--Spock has an assignment due in the morning, and he knows that Jim likely has homework as well.

“Okay, but.” Jim leans across the center console and gives Spock a long kiss, tongue sliding against Spock’s. “What if we just. Went back to the park.”

“It is closed, Jim,” says Spock. “It closes when the sun goes down. You know this.” He reaches over and touches Jim’s fingers. He has never been this affectionate with anybody before--not even Amanda. It is strange to be able to touch somebody, to want to touch them, and to be allowed to touch them all at once. It is strange to _embrace_ all of this at once. “Besides,” he says, “You must have homework.”

“I do. But I’m not gonna do it.”

“Why not?”

Jim shrugs. “I don’t know. My brain sometimes goes wild if I concentrate too hard on something. Also if I get something wrong it just. Wow.”

Spock does not fully understand what Jim is trying to say. “Would you be willing to try it? If you are not able to finish it, I am sure your teachers would be glad to help you.”

Jim’s expression is sour. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely. And keep in mind that I will be absolutely suffering _all night_.”

“I will certainly keep that in mind.” Spock kisses Jim’s lips and allows a smile to spread across his face. “I, on the other hand, will not be suffering. Not after today.”

“I’m going to kill myself,” Jim mutters. “God, you’re just making this harder. You know how bad I am with keeping my distance with people who don’t set boundaries?”

“Must I set boundaries? I quite like our current situation.”

“Spock,” says Jim, letting out a long sigh, “You are probably my favorite person and I really, really like you. Don’t acknowledge that.” He pushes out his door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Most likely, yes.”

“That wasn’t a question, Spock.” Jim spreads his fingers. “Be safe.”

“That is not the traditional--”

“I know. Just. Drive home safe, okay? It’s supposed to ice over tonight.”

“I will drive carefully, Jim.”


	5. Thursday

In the morning, Jim can’t stop touching Spock’s hands. He knows that there’s no possible way that humans can actually genuinely _kiss_ with their hands, but he also knows that he feels something. That tingling. It’s not the same as kissing Spock’s mouth (holy shit Spock is a good kisser, which is incredibly unfair. He just started. What the fuck.) but it’s way more subtle. And it’s not really common knowledge that Vulcans kiss with their hands, so Jim likes to reach over and casually touch Spock’s fingers.

Spock keeps giving Jim looks. They aren’t disapproving looks, which is a good sign. He actually looks a little amused. Like he knows exactly what Jim is up to and is enjoying it.

What’s the greatest part about today, though, is that Spock wore gloves. Which means when Spock comes to pick him up in the morning, they can hold hands over the console and Spock doesn’t do that trembling thing that he did when Jim was holding his hand.

Fuck, he probably overstimulated him or something.

But now they can hold hands without Spock feeling like he’s… well, whatever he feels like he’s doing. Maybe it’s like having sex. How wild would that be? Every time you hold hands you feel like you’re having sex. Wouldn’t that be the fucking dream?

“Jim,” says Spock quietly, “Are you well?”

“Uh. Yeah, I’m fine.” Jim glances at Uhura and Chekov, who are watching him and Spock with curious expressions. His cheeks burn. “Anyway. Do you two have any plans for the weekend? Where’s Sulu?”

They both look a little concerned. “No plans in particular,” Uhura says, and Chekov adds: “And Sulu is hanging out with Ben. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. Just a little distracted, I guess.” Jim shrugs and crosses his legs, his hand twitching to reach over to Spock again.

“Uh-huh,” says Uhura. “Listen, I know something’s up, and I would talk to you, but unfortunately I have some presentations to give to freshman. So. Expect a conversation tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure I want a conversation at all,” says Jim.

“Well, that’s too bad, because you’re getting one.” Uhura huffs and stands up. “Somebody has to be the mom of this group.”

“Oh, come on. You and I both know that Bones is the mom of this group.”

“He showed up at my house with soup,” says Chekov. “It was Russian, too.”

“Is there any soup that isn’t Russian?” asks Jim. Chekov frowns at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Tex-mex chili is _definitely_ not Russian.”

Jim groans and flops onto his back.


	6. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pike is gay and excited about space

“Captain?”

“Oh, fuck!” Jim scrambles backward until he hits a tree. Uhura looks at him, unamused.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Ugh.” God, if only Spock were here. Apparently he’s on some kind of ‘take your kid to work day’ and went to a meeting with his dad. So Jim is all alone and he’s _miserable._  “What’s up?”

“You and Spock. I looked up the whole…” Uhura sits next to Jim and leans her back against the tree, too. “I looked up the whole touching-fingers thing and what it means to Vulcans.” A slow smile breaks across her face. “When were you going to tell us?”

“Um.”

“How long?”

“Just Wednesday afternoon.”

She wraps an arm around Jim’s shoulders. “He’s cute.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you found somebody.”

Jim sighs. “Me too.”

{}

“I hope today was enlightening.”

Spock folds his hands behind his back, trying to curb his urge to just go back home and hold Jim. “It was most enlightening, Father.”

“You understand that I aim to expand your knowledge in politics as well as the sciences, Spock. While you will no doubt secure admission in the Vulcan Sciences Academy, you must also understand politics so you will be prepared for the social aspects of science and technology advancement.”

“I understand, Father.”

Sarek nods decidedly. “I must go speak with some Bajoran ambassadors. Please excuse me.”

“Of course.”

Sarek walks away and Spock is left alone to explore the great hall the meeting was housed in. It is fascinating architecturally--a mixture of fourteenth-century gothic and twentieth-century art deco. He wonders why the architects and designers made that decision. Perhaps this building is older than it looks.

“Hey.” Somebody bounces up to him. He’s wearing a black starfleet uniform and his hair is light brown, cropped short to his head. “You’re a Vulcan ambassador, right?”

“No.”

“Really? What are you doing here, then?”

“My father is an ambassador.”

“Oh! Nice!” He grins at Spock. There is something in his smile that makes Spock suspect there is more to him than meets the eye. “I’m Pike. Christopher Pike. I just got out of the academy.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Do you want to see something cool?”

Spock tilts his head.

“It’s the ship I’m going to go on. You wanna see?”

“I would be willing to do that, yes.”

“Okay. Follow me.” Pike moves down the hallway with a surprising amount of speed and Spock has to nearly lope after him. “I was assigned onto the best ship in the whole fleet. You’ll see.”

“I am sure I will.”

Pike pulls to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Spock nearly runs into him. “There,” he says, pointing. Spock turns and has to take a step back because, well. The ship is massive. It is large and gray and consumes the windows of the hallway almost entirely. “You ever see something so beautiful?” Pike asks him.

“It is…” Spock is unable to find the words. The ship in which he traveled to get to Earth was a small passenger ship--nothing like this. He can only imagine the kind of advancements of which this ship is capable.

“I know.” Pike’s grin, somehow, is wider. “She’s incredible. I didn’t have the words when I first saw her. But everybody I ask says I’ll get used to her. Can you imagine? Getting used to a ship like this.” He sighs and leans against the railing that lines the windows. “Just imagine exploring space in that. Imagine being on the _bridge_. Imagine the _adventures_.”

“I can only imagine,” says Spock. He cannot tear his gaze from the ship, and he is not sure if he wants to do so, either.


	7. Saturday

Spock, for the second time this week, wakes up to noises in the kitchen. He pushes aside his blankets and pads out to the main room, where he spots Jim sitting at the counter, conversing with Amanda.

Why is Jim here? When did he get here?

Spock is about to ask, but as he comes closer, he hears their words.

“I don’t know what to do. George says I should leave, but. I don’t know.”

“You’re in an abusive situation, James. It’s okay to put yourself first every now and then.”

“Yeah, but my mom is still with him. The divorce process would take ages.”

“I’ve met your mother, James. She’s a strong woman. If she can handle the bullshit of the Federation, then she can handle herself.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I should stay a little while longer, you know? Just to get everything together.”

Spock knows that this is not a conversation to which he was invited, so he goes back into his room and sits on his bed. He can still hear the conversation, but not clearly enough to make out the words.

He pulls out his chess board. Makes one move, spins the board, makes another. He’s almost done with the game when Jim pushes open the door, comes over to Spock’s bed, and sits next to him. Neither of them say a word. Spock resets the board and they play together, silently. Jim wins the first round. They come to a draw on the second. They don’t kiss each other, but their thigh are adjacent and Jim presses against him.

They play until it gets dark. Amanda only comes in a few times--twice to bring them food, twice to take their dishes away. When it is time to go to sleep, Spock puts away the board and they curl up together in the bed. Spock wraps his arms around Jim’s waist and holds him.

They fall asleep trying to forget the world.

{}


	8. Sunday

In the morning, Jim and Spock go to the Federation Museum of History. Spock doesn’t really explain why he suddenly has an interest in the Federation, but Jim comes along because yesterday was, well.

There were a lot of emotions. And somehow Spock knew that Jim needed to escape from all that for a while. He was just. For a guy who tried to suppress his emotions for the first most of his life, he really understood Jim, who was made _completely_ of emotions.

But Spock somehow made an environment that made Jim super comfortable and somehow simultaneously not as emotional and even more emotional.

So basically Spock knows magic. Jim doesn’t have any other explanation for it. Spock is a magician.

They pull into the FMH parking lot in Spock’s shiny car and they both climb out. Spock is wearing one of those super soft sweater-pant combos, and he let Jim borrow another set of clothes so that Jim didn’t have to wear whatever shit he’d pulled together yesterday.

“Thank you,” says Jim as they walk to the front.

“For what, Jim?”

“For being you. I don’t know. I’ve missed you.”

“I have missed you as well.” Spock’s fingers graze Jim’s and Jim feels a funny little tingling running up his back. God, just. Kissing was so great. Why couldn’t they do this all the time?

“I’ve never been here.”

“Neither have I.”

Jim elbowed him. “Well, duh. You just got on Earth.”

They step up to the ticket station and Spock gives the ticketmaster a few credits for admission. Jim plays with the bracelet that they get handed as they walk over to the entrance. It’s yellow and biodegradable and it feels strange against his skin.

“You are fidgeting,” says Spock, pulling open the door.

“Yeah. I do that a lot.”

They get past the main entrance and Jim has to take a moment because _holy shit_ he’s overwhelmed because there are so many options. God, why did the Federation have to have so much history? It wasn’t even that old, but there are, like, a million different sections to go to.

“Follow me.” Spock takes his wrist--he has gloves on, but his bare fingertips graze Jim’s palm for a moment before he pulls them back--and takes Jim toward the section labeled ‘Federation Sciences’.

Of course. Because Spock is a giant nerd. Where else would he take Jim?

They finally get to the display and Spock is suddenly talking about a mile a minute, pointing at different contraptions with his gloved hands, sending Jim a tiny little smile every now and then. What is it about that smile that makes Jim feel so happy? Is it because it’s rare? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t super want to know either, because what’s the point in understanding something something already makes you happy? Seems unnecessary.

Spock explains about everything in the room and Jim doesn’t super pay attention to what Spock is saying but he pays attention to what Spock is doing. When he talks he uses his hands to explain things. And his face is so expressive if you look for the little telltale signs--his eyebrows move the most,  and sometimes his eyes light up if he’s talking about something he really likes, and his mouth curls up at the corners or curls down and he shakes his head, too, if he’s really passionate about something.

Jim--dare he say it?--loves Spock. Which is ridiculous because they just started talking on Sunday and actually only met on Monday which was. That’s a week exactly. And Jim’s already thinking about how much he’s in love with the guy.

To be fair, he’s basically perfect. He’s so put together and Jim is a fucking disaster boy.

“Here,” says Spock, taking Jim’s wrist again. “Let’s go this way.”

They walk away from all of the little sciencey contraptions (thank god--they were making Jim’s head spin) and head down the hallway.

And pass a Kelvin display.

Jim stops and for a long time can barely breathe. His father’s face looms large in front of him, right next to Captain Richard Robau. At the top: _The Heroes of the USS Kelvin_. Underneath, flickering text details what happened eighteen years before.

Spock touches Jim’s wrist, very gently. It isn’t a kiss, but it’s enough that Jim is reminded that he’s there. Jim’s chest aches.

“Your father was the captain of the Kelvin,” says Spock quietly. “I… I did not know. I am so sorry.”

“He was in command,” says Jim. “My mom said he was happy. And then he had to go and, well.” He shrugs. “There’s a reason why there are Kelvin pods in every starship, now.” He takes Spock’s hand and pulls them into the room where it details the history of command. “Come on. Let’s just keep going.”

“If there is anything I can do, Jim--”

“You’re doing it, Spock.” Jim stops walking and starts examining the display. He’s never been particularly into science, beyond the fun facts he learns sometimes (mostly from Spock), and he isn’t put together enough to go into medical like Bones, and engineering has way too much documentation involved and way too many things to remember, but command was… it was easier. Simpler. His father was in command of the Kelvin for only a few minutes, but Jim could pull off at least an hour without killing everybody, right?

“Do you want to join Starfleet?” Spock asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You would be great in command.”

Jim’s head hurts. “Nah. I’m too soft. My dad was the brave one.”

“You are incredibly brave, Jim. And a captain of a starship need not be hard to be a successful captain.”

Jim snorts and shakes his head. He’s five years old and not even ashamed.

“We could join starfleet together,” says Spock. “You and me. We could enlist and go to the academy together. I could go into sciences and you could go into command. You and me, we could explore the universe together, with nothing to hold us back but the light of the stars.”

Jim is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “That.” He swallows.

“Think about it. Nyota can be on the bridge with us, too. She can be a communications officer. And Sulu, he can be the pilot. Chekov would be in charge of navigation. The doctor would obviously be the medical lead. Scott would be engineering.”

“You know Scotty?”

“We met. Briefly.” Spock pulls Jim to the bench and they sit next to each other, looking up at the yellow shirts on display. “What do you think?”

“I think that sounds amazing. You wanna be my first officer?”

“It would be an honor to be your first officer, Jim.”

Jim drops his head onto Spock’s shoulder and smiles. “It’s gonna be awesome. Just you and me.”

“We will be limitless, Jim.”

{}

That night, alone in his bed, Spock is overcome with emotion for the first time.

He thinks about exploring space with Jim. He thinks about not having to worry about appearing like a Vulcan. He thinks about being able to hold and touch Jim as much as they want.

When he touches his face, his fingers come away wet.


	9. Monday

“Okay, look.” Chekov and Sulu both drop next to Spock and Jim, crossing their arms. “We know what’s going on here. We get it.”

Spock raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t do that,” says Sulu. “We see right through this facade.”

“I do not know to which facade you refer.”

“You and the captain?” says Chekov, and Sulu says, “You and Spock?” Then, at the same time: “You guys are _together_?”

Spock and Jim look at one another and Jim gives a small shrug. “Yes,” says Spock.

“Ha! Knew it!” Sulu pumps his fist and Chekov whoops. “Guys, we want you to know that we love and support both of you, and even though this is really gay--”

“Oh my god,” says Jim. “I know for a fact that you and future Mr. Sulu were making out yesterday.”

“Like you and Spock weren’t?”

“Nope! We went to the museum! Like civilized people!”

Spock looks sideways at Jim. They did, in fact, go to the museum, but they also made out in the parking lot afterward, Jim pressed against Spock in the front seat, the windows fogging up around them. Perhaps Jim just did not want Sulu and Chekov to know.

“Uh-huh,” says Sulu. “Okay. And you didn’t make out in the parking lot?”

“Nope!”

“Uh-huh.” Sulu stands up. “I’m gonna go badger Ben, but I’m happy for you kids.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” The words are said facetiously, but the expression on Jim’s face says otherwise. “Have fun, Sulu.”

As Sulu leaves, Nyota joins them. She gives a quick hug to Sulu and then sits next to Spock, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure you two have already gotten the speech,” she says, “But I’d like to say one more thing and that’s that Jim, I’ve never seen you happier and, Spock, I’ve never seen you happy at all, but here we are. You two are oddly perfect for each other.”

“Thank you,” says Spock, and Jim echoes him.

“But also knock off the PDA.” Nyota tsks. “Vulcans aren’t affectionate, my ass.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

Jim laughs and laces their fingers together. “She’s just being an ass, Spock.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s being mean.”

“Hm.”

“Anyway, I came over here to get you, Captain. There are a couple teachers looking for you.”

“What, seriously? Why?”

“I don’t know. Have you been turning in your homework?”

“Mostly.”

“Well, let’s go see. I won’t abandon you in this time of need.”

Nyota pulls Jim away and Spock is left alone with Chekov. He does not quite know how to speak to Chekov--the only conversation they have really had is the one in which Chekov tried to convince Spock that all boots were invented in Russia. It did not go well.

“So,” says Chekov. “You and Jim. How long?”

“Wednesday.”

“You happy?”

Spock ponders this. “I think so. I am not familiar with the concept of happiness, but I imagine the feeling I get when I am with Jim is at least comparable to happiness.”

Chekov smiles. He is very young, Spock realizes. He is incredibly young. “Uhura’s right, you know. Jim’s never been this happy before. And it’s because of you.”

“Perhaps not,” says Spock. “There may be something else. His brother just returned home after missing for several days.”

“George has gone missing lots of times. He’s come back lots of times. It’s not that.” Chekov sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. You guys seem perfect for each other.”

“This makes you… disappointed?” Spock isn’t sure if he’s reading Chekov’s expressions correctly.

“Not disappointed. I just. I don’t know. I get lonely sometimes. Sulu has somebody and now Jim has somebody and Notes, she’s got Chapel.  I guess being surrounded by all of these happy couples is making me wistful.”

“You would like a relationship, as well.”

“I’ll find somebody.” Chekov smiles at Spock, his cheery demeanor returned. “You don’t need to worry about me. My mom says I have a wife waiting for me back in Russia.” Spock must look alarmed because Chekov laughs and shakes his head. “It’s a joke. I don’t think my mother could find a single person willing to marry me if she tried.”

Spock tries to joke, too: “You know, if I was not so enamored with Jim…” He cocks an eyebrow at Chekov and the other boy bellows with laughter.

{}

In the afternoon, Jim drags Spock over to Bones’s house to play poker. Spock is a little confused because he has no idea what poker is, but Jim convinces him that it’s a good idea, and soon they’re pushing their way into Bones’s place and taking a seat at Bones’s table.

“You both figure your shit out?” Bones looks between them warily when Scotty rises to get them drinks. “Because I’m not ready to suffer through your weird sexual tension again.”

“There wasn’t any sexual tension,” Jim says quickly. “Zero sexual tension. Nope.”

“I think there was at least a little sexual tension,” says Spock. Jim laughs and Bones slams his forehead onto the table. Scotty comes back into the room looking a little concerned.

“I think I’m regretting moving here a wee bit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Bones, coming back up for air. “We have the best setup. You me, uh.” He looks at Jim and presses his lips together.

“Did somebody else move in?”

The door bursts open and a pale girl bounds in. Her long white hair is pulled back and her eyes are wild and laughing. “Montgomery Scotty! Bones!”

Bones smiles and tips onto the back two legs of his chair. “Hey, Jaylah.”

Scotty takes a seat. “Jaylah, meet James T. Kirk and Spock. Spock and Jim, meet Jaylah.”

“Hello, Spock and James T,” says Jaylah. She nods curtly at them and sits in one of the free chairs backwards. “We are playing cards, yes? I am good at cards.”

“That’s what we promised you,” says Scotty. Bones leans over to Jim.

“She moved in with us yesterday. We love her.”

Jim is grinning. “What are we gambling with?”

“Pretzels. None of us have anything else.” Bones eyes Jim. “Unless you wanna gamble that sweater. Because it’s a really great sweater.”

“It is my sweater,” says Spock, the traitor, “Made from a traditional Vulcan cloth. It is quite easy to acquire.”

“Well, when you get back home, hit us up.” Bones takes the deck and starts dealing the cards. “Okay, so everybody gets three different kinds of pretzels. The small sticks are worth one each. The full pretzels are worth five. The ridiculously giant ones are worth ten. Everybody get that?”

“I understand,” says Spock. He picks up one of his smallest pretzels and eats it.

“Spock,” Bones sighs, “Jesus Christ.”

 

They play until Spock, Jim, Bones, and Scotty all run out of pretzels and Jaylah is lounging victorious.

“I did not win fair,” she says, eating her winnings. “You were holding back, Montgomery Scotty.”

“Not at all, lassie. You won fair and square.”

“Why are you only asking Scotty?” Bones was clearly offended.

“Please,” says Jaylah. “You have terrible face of poker.”

“I do _not_.”

“So does James T. Spock, he is better. I cannot read him, but James T can. Is easy. I just read James T twice as much.”

“Traitor,” Spock murmurs to Jim.

“But you, Montgomery. You went easy on me!”

“I didn’t!”

“You do not have to let me win. I can win on my own.”

“I know that, lassie.”

Jaylah throws a handful of giant pretzels at him. “Play again. Play fair.”

Jim gently tugs at Spock’s wrist and they both rise and gather their things amidst all of the commotion. By the time they get out the door, Jaylah has flung most of her pretzels at Scotty and they’re in the middle of a heated argument.


	10. Tuesday

Jim wakes up and actually gets dressed with a smile on his face. Being with Spock is… well, it’s like a dream, honestly. Spock seems so flawless. He’s funny and he’s clever and he’s super nice and thoughtful and he’s _great_ at kissing and he understands Jim in a way no one else has before.

Jim didn’t have a lot to stay alive for, but he thinks he’ll make it if he stays alive for Spock.

He slides into Spock’s shotgun seat and gives him a quick kiss. “Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. I slept great. You?”

Spock glances at Jim at a stop sign. “I slept with little interruptions.”

“Spock, are you… are you happy?”

“Yes.”

This gives Jim pause. “Really?”

“I gave the subject some thought, and I concluded that what I feel for you must be happiness. There is no other logical explanation.”

Kirk is overwhelmed, but in that way you get when you have a surprise birthday party or something. Overwhelmed with warmth.

“I’m happy, too, Spock.”

Spock gives Jim the tiniest of smiles that somehow makes Jim’s heart warm even more.

“When we’re in starfleet,” he says, “What do I call you?”

“I assume you are meant to call me by my name,” says Spock as he pulls into the school parking lot.

“I know, but can I? Like. I don’t know how to say your last name.”

“Vulcans refer to each other by rank and first name. My father, for example, is Ambassador Sarek. I would be…” Spock shrugs. “If I was a commander, I would be Commander Spock.”

Jim feels a smile spread across his face. “Imma call you ‘Mister Spock’. Is that against the rules?”

“I do not know.”

“Does it bother you?”

“If it pleases you, Jim, then I will not object.”

They climb out of the car and Jim comes over to the other side to give his boyfriend--he can call him that, right?--a kiss. “Ready to go to school, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes, Jim.”

 

They find Uhura and Chekov in the usual spot. Sulu, apparently, is off doing who-knows-what with Ben.

“Hey, boys.” Uhura smiles big at them as they approach. “How’d poker night go?”

“It went well,” says Spock.

“Who won?”

Jim sighs. “Jaylah.”

“I _like_ her.”

“Well, she’s adorable.”

“I would have chosen the word ‘intimidating’,” says Spock.

“I forgot to ask you--how did your trip with your dad go?”

Spock looks pleased that Uhura asked. “It went very well. With the progress that they are making, they will certainly be ready to conclude by Friday at the latest, and I will return home on Saturday as planned.”

Oh, fuck.

Oh, _fuck_.

Jim is finding it very hard to breathe.

How could he have forgotten that Spock was going to leave? How could he have gotten so fucking caught up in being in a relationship with him that he fucking forgot that it would _end_ in only a _few days_?

Holy shit James Tiberius Kirk wants to die.

“Are you okay?” Chekov asks quietly. Jim cringes.

“Uh. I think I’m coming down with a migraine.”

“Oh.” There’s something in Chekov’s eyes that says he doesn’t believe a word Jim is saying. “Do you want me to call your brother to see if he can pick you up?”

“Sure. Thanks.” Wow Jim wants to die.

“Listen,” says Chekov. “I know I’m not really the one that you guys go to if you want to talk since I’m obnoxious, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Captain.” He reaches over and very hesitantly touches the back of Jim’s hand. “You deserve to be happy.”

 

Jim goes home as soon as George can pick him up, which is about mid-first period.

“You want to talk about anything?”

“Migraine,” says Jim.

“Okay.” He’s got his ‘that’s bullshit’ face on. “Drink lots of water and get some sleep. Try to stay away from electronics.”

“I know the drill, Sam.” Jim sighs and rests his head against the car window.

“You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Sorry. I slipped.”

George drums his thumbs on the steering wheel. “You know, I stopped wanting to be called Sam because I wanted to see if I had the same name as dad and people knew it, I’d get more out of life. I was wrong.”

“Most people do the opposite,” says Jim. “They don’t want to be reminded that they’re their kids son and so they change their name.”

George laughs for a second. “Yeah, well, that was what I aimed for in the first place. Be my own person, et cetera. But that failed. So I tried again. Failed again.”

“So what do you want to be called?”

Jim’s brother shrugs. “I don’t know. Sam again, maybe?”

“Okay.” Jim smiles. “Sam.” But when his brother smiles back and starts to concentrate on the road, Jim spirals again.

 

He sits in his room, terrified to move because of how nauseated he is.

God, why was he such a fucking _idiot_ ? Why did he have to fall so hard and so fast for Spock? And all of that shit that Spock said about Jim, that was a lie. Because the way he said “I will return home on Saturday as planned” was so fucking _casual_.

Why did Jim have to be so passionate about everything he did? Why did he have to dive in when he could have just wetted his toes?

He rests his head onto his pillow and stares up at the ceiling, where he’d put glow-in-the-dark stars. Which was, you know, great, because every time he looks at his ceiling from now on, he’ll think of Spock.

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out.

<Chekov informed me of your illness. Please contact me if you need my assistance with anything.>

A sob escapes from Jim’s mouth, and he muffles it with the pillow so Sam won’t hear. Why was Spock _like_ this?

Another text comes about an hour later: <Jim, I most sincerely apologize if I have done anything wrong.> And then another one, an hour after that: <Nyota says this is a common thing for you. Perhaps we could explore some cures?>

Jim stares down at his phone, baffled. He’s ignoring Spock and Spock is being _nice_ to him. Why? What did Jim even do? Jim is a piece of shit and Spock is being _way_ too nice for absolutely no reason.

He gets one more text, just as school is ending: <I will come to visit you. I think I may have something that will help.>

Oh, fuck. Oh, no.

Jim unlocks his phone with trembling fingers and taps in a reply:  <dont come over. Stepdads home and he wont let u in>

Only half a minute passes before Spock messages him back. <Very well. Remember to rest and hydrate.>

“Ugh,” says Jim. “ _Ugh._ ” He drops his phone onto his desk and slams his face back into his pillow. Why is he such a piece of fucking _shit_?

Another text comes in: <I’m here with tea>

Jim frowns and checks the message again. Chekov? What is that kid thinking? <Dont>

<Too bad>

A knock sounds on the door. “Uh, Jim? Your little friend is here.”

“My little friend?”

Chekov pokes his head through the doorway. “Hey, Jim.”

“Oh my god. Chekov. Why are you here?”

The kid slides past Sam and the doorway and drops down next to Jim with a grocery bag in his lap. Sam looks concerned.

“Do you, uh. Want me to remove him?”

“No, he’s fine.” Jim pokes at Chekov’s side with his feet. “I’ll annoy him until he goes away.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Sam closes the door after him.

“Russians invented that tactic,” says Chekov casually, digging through the grocery bag. He pulls out a container of cookies and passes it over to Jim, who reluctantly opens it. “How are you doing? Better?”

“Eh.” Jim shoves a cookie into his mouth. “Not really.”

“You wanna talk? I’m good at listening. I’m not always obnoxious, you know.”

“You aren’t obnoxious, Chekov.”

“It’s okay, Captain. You don’t have to lie.”

“Seriously. You aren’t annoying at all. Honestly, you usually cheer me up at least a little.”

Chekov gives Jim a tiny smile. “Well, I’m glad. But still. Do you want to talk?”

“Well, see, if I start, I’m never going to stop.”

“That’s okay. I have lots of cookies.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a big jug. “I have tea, too. All natural. Sweetened.”

“Nice. Gimme.” Jim makes grabby hands and Chekov passes it over.

“So?”

“Uh. I kinda forgot that Spock was leaving? And he mentioned it this morning and I just kinda. Had a breakdown?”

“You can always do long distance.”

“Oh, come on. Everybody always thinks that those will work and they never do. Plus he mentioned his leaving so casually and I just can’t help but think that he doesn’t, I don’t know, love me back.”

Chekov bites into his cookie, not saying anything, and Jim realizes what just happened.

“Fuck. I said ‘love’, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever. It’s out now.” Jim is so beyond caring at this point, and it’s Chekov, who’s probably the third most trustworthy person Jim knows. Spock and Amanda preceding him. Bones is a piece of shit and comes fourth. “Anyway. He said it really casually and I’m worried he doesn’t love me back which means I’ve been feeling all of these things for him and he’s just, I don’t know. In it to make out with me.” He looks at Chekov, who is still waiting for him to continue. “Feel free to chime in at any point. I’m a disaster and I’m incapable of solving problems for myself.”

“You know Spock is Vulcan, right?”

Jim blinks.

“Vulcans hide their true emotions. Sometimes Spock lets it out, but he always does it on purpose. Like, if he smiles, he makes sure you’re looking first. You ever notice that?”

“Uh, no. But that isn’t really surprising. I’m oblivious.”

Chekov snorts. “Well, just because Spock said anything casually doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve just been hiding his true feelings, you know? He doesn’t like being emotional public so even if he wanted to cry, he’s _really_ good at making it look like he’s okay.”

“Yeah,” says Jim. “Maybe.”

“All of that aside, he matters a lot to you, Jim.”

“Yeah. He does. He…” Jim shakes his head. “I don’t know. We talked about joining Starfleet together, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to really _live_ more than then. It just… It made me so happy, thinking about exploring the world with him. He makes me want to stay alive as long as possible, and that idea’s always scared me, but that’s what he does for me. That’s… That’s just how it is with him.”

“Jim, listen to me.” Chekov looks more serious than he ever has before. He leans toward Jim and takes both of Jim’s hands and looks him right in the eye. “If he means that much to you, you need to find a way to hold on.”

“But if he doesn’t want that--”

“Jim, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Even with his ‘superior Vulcan skills’ or whatever, he can’t hide how he feels about you. Jim, if he means that much to you, you need to find a way to hold on, okay?”

Jim feels chastised. “Okay.”

“You promise me you’ll try?”

“Okay, I promise. I’ll try.”

“You two belong together,” Chekov says firmly. “I know it.”

Jim feels like crying.

“Now, hand over that tea. And where’s your computer? We should watch something really terrible and cheesy.”

{}


	11. Wednesday

Spock is sulking. Amanda knows it, Sarek knows it, the neighbors know it. Everybody at school knows it.

When he wakes up, he refuses breakfast and both Amanda and Sarek ask why in their own way--Amanda rubs his head and says “What’s wrong, honey?” in that voice of hers she uses when she’s trying to be soothing, and Sarek says, “I noticed something is troubling you, Spock.”

“Nothing is wrong,” says Spock, “And nothing is troubling me.”

“Is this about James?” Amanda asks. Sarek tilts his head.

“Who is James?”

“James is Spock’s friend. Is it James, honey?”

“Nothing is wrong,” says Spock again. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be on my way.”

Amanda looks sad and Sarek looks puzzled. That is not an expression that often graces Sarek’s face. “Okay, honey,” Amanda says. “Drive safe.”

Spock drives very carefully. When he gets to school, his mind is a chaotic jumble of thoughts and questions and doubts. He’s never been this confused in his life. Has he done something wrong? Clearly he’s done something wrong, because Jim has failed to reply to any of Spock’s messages but the one in which he offered to stop at Jim’s house. He does not want to see Spock, and he does not want to speak to Spock.

Spock is clearly in the wrong. There is no other logical explanation.

He checks his messages once more before he climbs out of his car, but there is nothing from Jim. There is one message from his mother that says <I love you. I’m always here if you need to talk> and one message from Sarek, that says <Remember, the pursuit of logic has been and always will be vital. Relationships are not.>

He supposes both are comforting in their own way. At least Sarek was trying.

Spock gathers his things and starts walking toward the school, but he does not move to join the others at the usual spot. He does not want to create a situation that is awkward for Jim, seeing as Jim has been avoiding him and the people Spock usually sits with are Jim’s friends.

He can find another place to wait for the day to start. Logically, he should not have even showed up so early. He should have spent more time at home, or perhaps driving. Either would have been an acceptable alternative to just wandering around the school.

Spock pulls out his phone and flips it over in his hands. He could make new friends. That was certainly possible. It was not at all likely, but it was possible. He could also mediate until the first period of the day started--with the constant movement of thoughts in his head, mediation would certainly help him concentrate.

He does none of these things. Instead, he leans up against the wall and pretends he’s busy texting someone when really he’s just typing out the seventh chapter of his favorite theoretical novel. He gets to about five hundred words before the bell rings.

In class, the teachers start to notice his distraction. He cannot answer questions nearly as quickly, nor can he analyze situations as in depth as he used to. At least three of them approach him and ask him if everything is okay at home--“Do you need me to call anyone?”

“No,” Spock tells them. “Everything is fine. I need only mediation, which I will surely find during the lunch hour.”

They all looked doubtful, but they left him alone for the rest of the period.

Then, lunch. Spock is dreading it. Somehow the organs inside his body feel heavier. He knows that isn’t logical, but he is beyond logic at this point. He seems to have embraced everything that is James T Kirk, including the blatant disregard for logical approach.

“Spock.”

He tenses. “Jim.”

“I didn’t see you this morning.”

“I was busy,” says Spock, which is not technically a lie. He was busy typing up a chapter on universe theory.

“Listen,” says Jim. His eyes seem somehow duller today, Spock notices, but he does not know what this means. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

Spock does not say anything, but his hands curl tighter around the book in his hands.

“The truth is, I’m fucking terrified. You were talking about leaving so casually, and I… well, I panicked. Because, firstly, I felt like you were dealing with this a lot better than I was, which means you aren’t as upset as I am about this, which means you don’t care about me.”

“Jim, that is absurd.”

“Don’t say that.” Now Jim’s eyes are wet. His fists are clenched at his sides, and he’s shaking his head. “Don’t invalidate me like that.”

“I am sorry. That was not my intention. Your feelings are valid, Jim, and my reaction was one out of surprise, not scorn.”

Jim nods, but the wetness of his eyes will not cease.

“I care about you deeply, Jim. I only mentioned my departure so casually because I am still unsure of how to react with or deal with it. I know it is not logical, but I suppose in a way I was depersonalizing myself from the situation. Any indifference you detected is a result of wariness for the stability of my emotional state.” Spock reaches out with one hand and catches Jim’s chin, cradling it in his fingers. “You are one of the most important people in my life. It is impossible for me not to care about you.” But, as he says these things, a thought wheedles its way into Spock’s mind: his emotional state is already unstable. It was only a few days ago that he was crying-- _crying_ \--in his bedroom, and not even something common for tears inducing, like a death. He wept over the notion of joining starfleet with Jim. Even now, when Jim doesn’t message him back, his emotional stability nonexistent that he can barely concentrate. Those are _human_ reactions, and Spock is Vulcan. Spock has always been Vulcan. He was told a long time ago to acknowledge and respect his human side, but his goals, traditions, and lifestyle has always been Vulcan.

He has been neglecting all of that since he met Jim.

Yes, Jim burns bright like a star. Yes, he is full of the same kind of fire one would expect to find in a star. Yes, he makes Spock _feel_ like he never has before. But are all of those things good things for Spock? He has completely thrown aside his Vulcan heritage since he met Jim. _Everything_ has changed since meeting Jim.

“So.” Jim reaches up and touches the hand that is holding his chin. “You and me, we’re okay?”

“Of course, Jim.”

“Okay.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Spock’s mouth. “Do you want to maybe hang out later? Just you and me.”

“Unfortunately, I have plans.” Spock drops his hand away. “Maybe later.”

“Oh. Okay.” He gives Spock a weak smile. “See you around. I lo--I’ll miss you.”

“Goodbye, Jim.”

 

When Spock gets home, he studies harder for his tests than he ever has in his life. Whenever he thinks of Jim, he meditates for five minutes and continues.

He stays up all night. His phone buzzes at least twenty times but he doesn’t pick it up once.

{}


	12. Thursday

Jim knows that he fucked up and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Spock isn’t answering his text messages and even though he said everything was okay yesterday, now he’s just avoiding Jim and Jim knows he was doing the exact same thing yesterday but _also_ he knows that both times are entirely his fault. Because the first time Jim was panicking and the second time Jim fucked up on his apology.

He’s a fucking disaster and he _doesn’t know how to fix this_.

Fuck, and the person he most wants to go to to ask for help is Amanda, which. He can’t do that. Because Amanda is Spock’s _mom_ and he doesn’t want to just show up at Spock’s house and ask advice with Spock only a few feet away in the other room.

So instead he just goes to school and suffers.

Spock is barely talking to him. If he does speak (which is when Jim asks him a question that would be rude to ignore), he answers with the shortest statement he can.

“What are you doing tonight? You busy?”

“I will likely study.”

“I was talking to Bones and he was thinking about taking a trip tomorrow, you know? Just heading over to the park and hanging out there. Maybe having a picnic. You’re invited. It’ll be all of us together--the high school kids and the college kids. It’ll be fun.”

“I will review my schedule.”

After a while, Jim just gives up, because it’s just making him feel worse about himself. Spock avoids talking to him, and he avoids talking to Spock. At lunch, he considers going to go sit with Chekov and Sulu and Uhura, but he’s also terrified that Spock will show up too, so instead he goes to the usual place he goes to when he’s being a whiny pissbaby and sulks.

He wishes he could go back to when they were happy. It wasn’t that long ago when they were up to making out twenty-four-seven, but also it feels like a long time ago. It feels like an eternity.

Why can’t Jim just be happy?

He hops on the bus after school and goes straight to Bones’s campus, climbing the big stairs up to his room and barging immediately in.

Jaylah is stretched across the couch, feet resting on Scotty’s lap, who’s playing a video game.

“Bones?” says Jim, unable to come up with everything else. Jaylah nods toward the kitchen and Scotty says “kitchen” without moving his eyes from the television screen. “Thanks.” He walks past them, ducking when he comes between them and the television screen and dropping the backpack next to the couch. Bones is standing in the kitchen with a pink frilly apron tied around his waist and neck. He looks up when Jim comes in.

“Jim. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Bones pulls off his oven mitts. “What about?”

“Spock.”

“Did that Vulcan bastard break your heart?”

“What? No. Yes. No. I don’t know. Bones, I think I fucked up really badly and I just. I don’t know what to do.”

Bones looks at him for a long time. “Okay,” he says. “Talk.”

Jim tries to explain everything as best he can. When he talks about locking himself in his room, Bones gives a tiny little sigh, but that’s about the biggest reaction he has until Jim stops talking.

“So? What do I do? You have to help me with this.”

“I honestly don’t know why you came to me, Jim.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You and Spock, that’s a romantic relationship. You know I don’t do that. You know I’ve never had that.”

“I know. But you’re always the person I go to for advice. You know that.”

“Jim.” Bones reaches across the counter, now, and holds Jim’s hands between his palms. “I’m not the person you need to be talking to. You and Spock have something special and there’s nothing that I can say that will help you fix this.”

“You don’t have _any_ advice?”

“My advice is that you should _talk_ to him. Actually talk to him. It doesn’t have to be face-to-face, but you should at least call him. Tell him what’s been going on. Ask what’s been going on. Figure this out between you two before he leaves or you’ll both be miserable.”

Jim looks down at their joined hands and sighs. “But even if we make up, him leaving will still be terrible because he’s, you know, _leaving_.”

“You’re going to have to deal with it. I know it sucks, but that’s how things are. It isn’t like you’re going to be confined to Earth all your life. Even if Spock goes to Vulcan and can never make it back to Earth, it isn’t even like it’ll be very hard to pop over for a visit or to call him. With today’s technology, having a long-distance relationship is almost as easy as having a relationship two feet from each other.”

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

“I know, Jim. You’ll talk to him, though, won’t you?”

“That’s what Chekov told me to do, and I think it made things worse.”

Bones looks at him. Just looks at him.

“Not,” says Jim quickly, “That that’s Chekov’s fault. It’s my fault. I’m just saying I tried talking and everything went wrong.”

“The act of you talking to him wasn’t the thing that went wrong. I don’t know what went wrong, but communication is almost always a good thing.”

Jim smiles a little. “Is this killing you a little inside? Being all knowledgeable and interested in my relationships?”

Bones scoffs and leans away, snatching up the oven mitts. “Of course not. I’m always knowledgeable and interested in your relationships. The only difference is that I’m actually being vocal about it. And yes,” he says, turning to look at Jim before he opens the oven, “It’s killing me a little inside. Do you want to try my cookies?”

 

When Jim gets home, he changes into some comfortable pajamas--comfortable pajamas being a pair of sweatpants and that ridiculously soft sweater--and sits cross-legged in front of his computer, cup of cocoa on his desk.

He stares at the screen of his computer for a long time before he finally taps in Spock’s name and calls him.

Spock picks up almost immediately. He’s dressed in all black clothing and looks even more serious than he usually does. Jim, because he’s an absolute disaster, says, “What’s with the black? Has there been a funeral or something?”

Spock barely reacts. “Is there something you need, Jim?”

Wow. That hurts. “I just. What went wrong, Spock? What happened with us? We were happy and then. And then this.”

Spock breathes a little deeper, which may or may not mean he just sighed. “I am conflicted, Jim.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came to Earth only because my father had business here, and it was a unique opportunity to explore other cultures before I pursued an extended education and Vulcanian career. Unfortunately, my time here has significantly affected my aspirations and my psyche. I am becoming much more emotional than I have ever been in my life. On Sunday, I shed tears. That is not the Vulcan way.”

Jim feels sick.

“It is time for me to return to my roots. I have become very distracted, and I need to… refocus. I need to once again become fully Vulcan, as I have always aspired to be.”

“Spock, you can’t just become _full Vulcan_. God, just. You’re half human! Why can’t you have the best of both worlds!”

“I would not expect you to understand. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an interview for the Vulcan Sciences Academy to see if I could be a potential candidate for their program.”

“What happened to our dream about joining starfleet? About exploring the universe? What about… what about what you said? Nothing but the stars to hold us back--what about that?”

“Goodbye, Jim.”

The screen goes dark.


	13. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw *eyeball emoji*

Jim goes to school but he doesn’t really pay attention to anything. He just does his assignments, listens to the lectures, brushes off the concern of Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura, and listlessly eats lunch by himself.

He knows he’s moping. He does. But also he can’t stop. Because Spock was the best thing that’s ever happened to him and Jim fucking _lost_ him. Jim fucked up and now Spock wants nothing to do with him. He’s just. Returning to the ‘Vulcan way’ or whatever.

Jim wants to fucking die.

Bones calls him, but he ignores it. Then Scotty calls him, which is weird, which Jim also ignores. He wants Spock to call him, but he’s not calling him, and so Jim is just absolutely fucking miserable.

He sees Spock throughout the day. His uniform seems even sharper than it was before, like he’s compensating for something, and he moves stiffly: back straight, arms rigid at his sides, steps evenly spaced and careful. It makes Jim feel like shit. Did he do that to him? He was much more relaxed when he first arrived, and then he got even more relaxed when he was with Jim, and now he just took a giant fucking jump in the other direction.

Yeah. It’s definitely Jim’s fault.

Once he sees Spock and Uhura talk, which makes his stomach curl, because, well. Uhura looks so sad and touches Spock’s arm and even kisses his cheek and Spock nods several times. He can’t hear what they’re saying since they’re, like, a mile away, but he knows that Uhura is being all comforting, like she is, and Jim is suffering alone.

That’s mostly his fault, since he isn’t talking to anybody, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be salty about it.

After school, he drags himself home and drops onto his bed. Sam comes in with a cup of tea a pat on the back for Jim, but that’s all he offers, thank god. Jim loves Sam but he doesn’t want relationship advice from him.

And then Jim finds the container of cookies that Chekov left on his desk, and the kid’s words come floating back into his head: _If he means that much to you, you need to find a way to hold on_.

Well, fuck. Jim knows what he needs to do.

He grabs his jacket, tugs on his shoes, and climbs out the window.

 

“Oh! Hello, James.” Amanda opens the door with a smile on her face, but she doesn’t immediately invite Jim in, which is worrying. Instead, she just leans toward him, eyebrows drawing together. “We should talk about Spock.”

“That’s why I’m here. Well, not to talk about him. Talk _to_ him.”

“He’s gotten a lot worse. He’s… really depressed. He hasn’t been this bad in a while. He doesn’t do anything but study. It got like this before he knew how to deal with the bullies.”

Jim’s stomach lurches. What is it with his digestive system today?

“Did you two break up?”

“Yeah,” says Jim, “I think so.”

“Ooh. That’ll do it.”

“Listen, uh. Amanda. I’d love to talk about this, but also I really need to talk to Spock.”

“Oh! Yes.” Amanda opens the door wider. “You know what? Me and Sarek, we are out for dinner tonight. So.” She raises her eyebrows. “If you need anything, just call, okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

As he passes her, she kisses the top of his head. “You’re a good kid, and I know the two of you can work this out.”

“Thanks, mom. I mean. Amanda. Thanks, Amanda.”

“You can call me ‘mom’, James. Nobody else does.”

Jim goes to Spock’s room feeling even sadder than before. He knocks.

“Enter.”

Jim pushes open the door. Spock is sitting bent over his desk, but he doesn’t look up when Jim enters, which gives Jim a moment to look around the room.

Everything is packed already. Spock’s room, which used to have weird science stuff sitting on every surface and taped-together puzzles covering the walls, is completely empty except for a stack of boxes in the corner, the desk Spock is sitting at, the chair he’s sitting on, and the bed. Jim has to choke down a sob.

“Is there something you need, mother?” asks Spock. “I need to finish this analyzation of my results from the Academy.”

“Hey, Spock.”

Spock’s entire spine goes rigid and he turns around slowly. “Jim.”

“I think we need to talk.”

“I was under the assumption that I made the future of our relationship clear yesterday,” says Spock. “Forgive me if I come across as cruel, but perhaps I should make it even more lucid for you.” He turns to face Jim fully, now, and folds his hands in his lap. “There is no future for us. You will pursue your education and career, and I will pursue mine. I will be on Vulcan, and you will be… wherever you end up. What happened between us was my fault. It was a momentary lapse in my judgment. It was a result of my losing control. I hope someday you will forgive me for making this mistake.”

“Fuck, Spock, seriously?”

“I am quite serious, Jim.”

“You’re leaving _tomorrow_ , Spock. Fuck! You have just _one more night_ to be emotional, and you’re wasting it, what? Analyzing shit? Fuck you!”

Spock stands quickly. “That was uncalled for, Jim. You know I understand little about humans, but I at least recognize insults.”

“Then get _angry_!” Jim shouts. “Scream at me! Curse at me! Do _something_! If you’re going to go try to be fully Vulcan, take this last night to just be _human_!”

Spock is suddenly in his face, backing Jim up against the wall. “You do not understand anything about me, Jim. You are emotional and incompetent and you make _completely_ irrational decisions! You are nothing like me. You--you--”

Then his face smoothes. He takes a step back, but Jim catches his wrist.

“Keep going,” he whispers, but Spock shakes his head, breathing hard, eyebrows drawn together. Like he’s disturbed he used exclamation marks. “Spock, you’re right. I don’t know anything about you. You don’t talk about yourself because it isn’t logical or whatever but the thing is, I would love to know everything about. I love _you_ , Spock. I know that you want to go be emotionless on the big red planet and study science, but can’t you just give yourself one more night? Just you and me. You can be angry and you can be sad and you can be happy and tomorrow, you and suppress all of that again. What do you say, Spock? Just one more time. If you're going through with this, it’s your last chance to really _feel_ something.”

Spock, suddenly, kisses Jim. Both on the mouth and through full-hand contact. He kisses him hard and furiously, pressing him tight against the wall, holding Jim’s hands next to his head.

Jim feels it in his fucking _bones_.

Fuck, wait. Don’t think about Bones right now. Do _not_ think about Bones. Think about one bone. Just one. Maybe two. Okay, think about bones but only with a lowercase b.

Spock pulls away from the kiss and his lip curls up. “Is that emotional?” he snarls. Jim’s eyes widen. “I’ve _never_ not had emotions, Jim, and you don’t fucking _get_ that I have to hide them every single day or people won’t see me as a real Vulcan and I’ll be seen as a _joke_. Do you get that, at least? I grew up on Vulcan and I have a Vulcan _ambassador_ as my father and if I present even the smallest trace of human emotion, I will be _torn apart_ on Vulcan, and so will my father. Do you understand, Jim, that when I was a child, I was beaten until my nose, four ribs, my left arm, and my right shin were all broken because I cried when I skinned my knee? I was five years old, Jim, and ever since then, I have never shown emotion, because emotion in my world is _dangerous_ , and you are the first person since then to actually really convince me, even for a few days, that emotion might--that it could be--a good thing.”

Jim starts honest-to-god sobbing. Like a fucking baby. He leans into Spock and wraps his arms around him and Spock shudders for a moment and then hugs him back, tightly. “I’m sorry,” Jim says, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“One more night.” Spock presses his forehead to Jim’s. He’s got tears on his cheeks. “Just one more night. You and me.”

“You and me,” Jim whispers. “I’m so sorry, Spock.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just… just be here. Please.”

“I’m here, Spock.” He presses a kiss to Spock’s mouth. “I’m here.”

{}

Spock has been having a miserable few days.

Ever since he came to the realization that he was abandoning his Vulcan heritage by being with Jim, he fell into the hard routine of letting academics consume his life. He knows that Vulcans do it all the time, which makes it worse. He is incapable of doing even something as simple as this.

Amanda is concerned for him, which he does not understand. The day when Jim would not communicate with him--that was the day he was performing poorly. After Spock came to his realization, he performed better than he had been doing all year, even on Vulcan. And it was _then_ that Amanda started to ask if anything was wrong.

Spock was drowning. He does not know why he compares his experience to drowning, but that is what it felt like. He was drowning in the monotony and the academics and the knowledge and it was strange, because, while he had suppressed his emotions all his life, he had never suppressed them quite so much. And he was drowning in the feeling of it.

And then Jim showed up in his bedroom and screamed at him and cursed at him and insulted him and Spock lost all control.

And it felt… well, it felt good. It felt good to _feel_ again.

“Spock,” Jim says softly when Spock starts tugging at his shirt. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It is my last day to be emotional.”

Jim’s eyes are shining. He must be about to cry again. He is very emotional quite often, Spock notices. “Right,” he says. “Your last day.” He lifts off his shirt and then kisses Spock again.”

“J--Jim.” Spock grunts when Jim pushes him onto the bed. “You are--quite pleasing to look at.”

Jim starts laughing. “Really? Who says that?”

“I do, apparently.”

“You’re pleasing to look at too, Spock.”

“No, I do not follow the conventional human standards for--”

“Spock. You’re cute. You’re hot. You’re smokin’. Okay? We’ve been over this.” He slides his hands under Spock’s shirt and his fingers trace patterns onto Spock’s skin. “Spock, I love you.”

“Jim--”

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.” He looks up, then, and grins--Spock only hesitates briefly to describe it as ‘devilish’. “So?”

“So,” Spock repeats.

“Are you gonna take your clothes off or what?”

“I do not think that this is how things usually go.”

“Well, I’m incredibly inexperienced. I think the farthest base I’ve ever gotten to was with you. In the park.”

“Base?”

“Oh, you know. The bases. First base being making out, second base being… wait. That doesn’t work.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jim waves his hand and puts his legs on either side of Spock’s waist. “Don’t worry about it. The point is, I have zero experience, and you have… you know. Your experience.”

“Also zero experience,” says Spock, amused.

“Not that it would matter,” Jim says quickly. “Because, you know. Your having zero experience with sex is comforting because I _also_ have zero experience with sex, but your having even, like, one experience with sex, would make me feel better because that means I would not have to figure it all out by myself.”

Spock raises an eyebrow.

“You’re cute.” Jim presses a kiss to his eyebrow.

“I was also under the impression that there was not this much speaking.”

Now Jim giggles, and it’s so infectious that Spock starts laughing, too. “Oh my god,” says Jim. “We have no idea what we’re doing.”

“I have missed you, Jim.”

“I missed you too, Spock. So much.” He combs his fingers through Spock’s hair. “So do you want to actually, like. Do something about this?”

“To what do you refer?”

“Uh. You know.”

“I do not.”

“Spock, come on.”

Spock laughs and tugs Jim down to his mouth. “I was joking.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jim leans back for a moment. “You’re using contractions.”

“Yes. I don’t think I need to keep up appearances for you.”

“You wanna take off your clothes?”

“That was the plan.” Spock pushes Jim off of him, onto the space between them and the wall.

“Hey!”

“Calm down. I can’t get undressed with you on top of me.” Spock peels off his shirt, which felt hot and tight against his skin and threw it onto a stack of boxes in the corner. Jim leans forward and kisses Spock’s chest. “I thought you were supposed to kiss my mouth.”

“I’m gonna kiss every single part of your body, pal.”

“Is it still considered kissing?”

“Yes, Spock. It’s still considered kissing.” He presses his lips to Spock’s navel, now, which makes a curious shiver run through Spock’s body. Jim grins. “You like that?”

“It was… pleasing.”

He gives Spock another kiss on the line of Jim’s pants, and his tongue snakes out and traces a slick pattern onto Spock’s skin.

After that, things seem to fall quite neatly into place. Jim moves fluidly against Spock’s body, breath warm, kisses hot. Spock tries to be as fluid, but he knows he does not have the same grace as his partner, and settles instead for completely just letting himself go--letting himself feel. Letting himself move and cry and slam Jim as hard as he can against the mattress without hurting him because he’s so _full_ of everything but he wouldn’t hurt Jim--he would never, never hurt Jim.

They move together like they’ve been moving together all their lives. Jim next to him, touching him, running his hands along every part of Spock’s body and planting kisses right afterward, tangling his fingers into Spock’s once-carefully-combed hair, well. It feels natural. It feels right.

When Jim comes, fingers digging hard into Spock’s back, Spock feels like he has finally found somewhere he belongs. He lets all of Jim’s emotions in: lets them consume him, lets them take over all that he is and all that he will ever be.

“Come on, Spock,” Jim whispers, grip tightening around Spock, “Let go.”

Spock lets go of everything at once.

{}


	14. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you concerned about Amanda walking in Spock and Jim getting it on, she and Sarek were out to dinner

Spock is incredibly warm when he wakes.

Jim is wrapped around him, naked, head on Spock’s chest. He mumbles and shifts when Spock moves to get out of bed. Carefully, Spock moves Jim to the pillow and slides out, hissing when his feet hit the cold ground and the cool air whispers over his bare legs.

He finds his boxers under the bed and picks up the rest of his clothes, folding them carefully and putting them in their respective boxes. He finds the outfit he prepared for today on the desk where he left it, and pulls on the pants first.

“Spock.”

He does not turn around to face the bed. “Good morning, Jim.”

There is a long moment of silence. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine.”

“Come on, man.” Spock hears the rustling of sheets as Jim pushes himself out from under the covers. “Please talk to me. After last night…”

Spock tenses. The shirt in his hands, which once was very soft, seems rough and unforgiving. “What about last night?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d be more open about what you’re feeling.”

“More open.”

“Yeah.”

Spock searches for his shoes in silence.

“Spock--”

“You should get dressed, Jim. We are meant to be out of the house in only a few hours, and we have yet to pack anything onto the shuttle. Besides. Your family is probably wondering where you are.”

“I can just text Sam.”

Spock sighs. “Jim.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave. I just.” Jim stops, holding his clothes against his chest. “Spock, I wanted you to know--”

Spock is afraid of what Jim is about to say.

“I just.” Jim rubs at his jaw. “I love you, Spock. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Spock seals the last of his boxes.

“Are you gonna say anything?” There’s a long silence as Jim dresses. Spock can feel his gaze. “I guess that’s a no.”

“It is time for you to leave, Jim. My parents will likely be preparing the shuttle and it is unwise to expect our routine will be interrupted if you remain here until their return.”

“Okay.” There is something in Jim’s voice, but Spock tries to ignore it. “I’m leaving now. For real.” He turns Spock’s doorknob and stands there for a moment in the doorway, shoulders shaking.

“Jim, wait.” Spock surges forward and takes Jim’s arm, spinning him around to kiss him. Jim sighs against his mouth. “Goodbye.”

Jim is blinking very quickly, like he has something caught in his eye. “Bye, Spock.”

 

In the shuttle, looking out over the city he had made home for two weeks, Spock thinks about Nyota and Chekov and Sulu and Ben and Bones and Jaylah and Scotty and, most of all, Jim. He can still feel traces of Jim’s mind in his head, raw and open, fighting against the logic in which Spock prides himself.

He thinks about how Jim felt in his hands. He thinks about how he felt in Jim’s hands. He thinks about how easily and perfectly they melded together, both physically and mentally. He thinks about Jim’s soft hair and his slick tongue and his bright eyes and his strong hands. He thinks about how he felt with Jim. He thinks about how comfortable and… loved he felt.

And then he looks down at his lap, where he holds the response for the Vulcan Sciences Academy, and he reminds himself that embracing his Vulcan side is the right thing to do. Vulcans will always be able to tell that he is not fully Vulcan, but other species can barely tell. Spock can study at the academy and then go to another planet and study the sciences there. It will be lonely, but that isn’t something he needs to worry about. He has a plan. He doesn’t ever have to be lonely and he can forget all about Jim.

He will be entirely Vulcan.

{}

Jim can see the shuttle taking off from his bedroom window, but he doesn’t go outside. Sam sits on his bed with him and talks and talks and Jim lets the noise take over his brain because he can’t stands to pick up his phone and see the empty notifications screen, and he can’t look at his computer either for the same reason. Even laying on his back frightens him, because the stars will remind him of Spock.

_Goodbye._

And there was no answer to Jim making a complete fool out of himself, either. He fucking sat there and told Spock how he felt and Spock said _nothing_.

Figures.

When it gets dark, Jim climbs out his window again and catches the bus to the park, then climbs up the hill and stretches out on the bench that he sat with Spock on only a little over a week before. He props his head on his hands and looks up at that little red glowing orb in the distance, where Spock was probably being stoic and intelligent and bullied mercilessly and everything hurts but Jim doesn’t even let it hold him back. He’s sick over the edge of the hill and then he’s on his back again, wiping at his mouth and at his eyes with separate hands, his body shaking with every sob.

He wonders what might have happened if things were different. If Spock was fully human, or if he was Vulcan and so was Jim. He wonders what might have happened if Spock’s dad had decided to make home base Earth instead of Vulcan. He wonders what might have happened if the meetings didn’t go as planned and Spock stayed a few weeks more. He wonders what might have happened if he’d never had the meltdown he did, and Spock was never reminded of how much Jim was fucking everything up. He wonders what might have happened if he hadn’t actually fucked everything up. He wonders what might have happened if he had told Spock earlier how much he really loves him. He wonders if that would have made any difference at all.

Mostly he wonders what might have happened if he’d found a way to make Spock want to stay.


	15. Sunday

Earth~

Jim’s afraid that if he’s left alone he’ll jump into traffic, so when he hops out the window this time he just goes straight to the bus stop and sinks into one of the bus’s seats.

His phone buzzes a few times--three messages from Sam wondering where he keeps going off to, one from his stepdad because he left a mess on the counter before he left, and one from his mom asking how everything’s going.

He ignores them all.

The bus stops at the college campus and he thanks the driver as he gets off, then walks in complete sullen silence all the way to Bones’s house, rubbing at his arms because he left his room without grabbing a sweater first. Because he never thinks things through. Because he’s an impulsive piece of shit.

No lights are on when he arrives, but he digs the key out of his pocket that Bones gave him ages ago and twists it inside the lock, then ducks in and locks it behind him. He lumbers to the kitchen, dropping the key on the counter, and digs through the cabinets until he finds Bones’s stash of whiskey.

He starts chugging.

He doesn’t want to remember anything, but he doesn’t want to forget, either. And drinking, well. It finds him a happy medium. He can remember what it was like to be with Spock without suffocating because he’s too drunk too feel anything but his intoxication. And that’s, well. It’s a blessing. He can remember Spock’s mouth on his, Spock’s hands on him, the curve of the smile when he forgets to pretend, the gentle laughter, the look in his eyes when he just finally let go.

Jim finishes the first bottle and digs around for another. He’ll pay Bones back someday for this. Whenever he can afford it.

He leans against the counter and twists at the second bottle’s lid. He wonders what Spock is doing. Studying, probably. He doesn’t even need to study. He’s uber fucking smart and probably got into that uber smart school and is probably out there being his perfect self but also showing zero emotion because he’s surrounded by people who’ll fuck him up if he smiles or some shit.

Jim wonders if Spock kissed anybody before him. If maybe he has a partner over on Vulcan. Jim read somewhere that Vulcans have arranged marriages so Spock probably has somebody over there who he can forget about Jim with. If he even cared about Jim at all.

There was a moment on Friday night, when Spock was against Jim and there was nothing in between them but sweat and whatever murmured words that slipped through their lips, Jim thought for a moment that Spock would stay--that he would see the appeal of just letting go of everything and he would say something like, “I think I’ll stay with Bones or somebody and keep going to school here and you and me will stay together and--” Wait, no. That isn’t how Spock talks.

Jim tilts the whiskey into his mouth and closes his eyes as it burns his throat.

No, it’ll probably be something like, “Jim, I have considered all approaches to this situation, and I have decided that remaining on Earth with you will be the best course of action. Perhaps Doctor Mccoy will be kind enough to lend me his spare room.”

He laughs for a moment and spills some of the whiskey on himself.

Shit. Will that stain? Hopefully it won’t stain.

“James T?”

Oh, fuck.

Jim smiles lazily as Jaylah and Scotty come into the room, both looking incredibly concerned. “Hey,” he slurs.

“Well, shit,” says Scotty. “Jaylah, lassie, can you grab us some water?”

Jaylah raises an eyebrow. It’s such a Spock thing that Jim starts crying. “Sure,” she says. “He is going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll just get some water and a quick treatment into him and he’ll be as good as new in the morning.”

“Scotty,” Jim mumbles, “Spock’s gone.”

“I know, lad. I heard. Is that what all of this is about?”

Jim covers his face, but he forgets that he was holding the bottle in his hands and it drops onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “Fuck, fuck, fuck--”

“It’s okay. It isn’t that hard to clean up.”

“I will grab a cloth,” says Jaylah, passing over a plastic cup.

“Thanks, lassie.” Scotty brings the cup to Jim’s mouth. “Here. Drink this.”

“No.” Jim tries to push it away. “No. ‘M not thirsty.”

“You clearly were, since you just downed all of Bones’s whiskey. Drink this. If you don’t, your headache in the morning will be hell.”

“I’m already _in_ hell.”

“I know. But neither of us want you to dive down a few more circles. Drink.”

Reluctantly, Jim swallows a mouthful.

“More,” says Scotty. Jaylah suddenly appears behind him and hands over a few pills. “And take these.”

“Those from Bones?”

“No. Bones is still in class. But, believe it or not, I do know how to make a hangover a little less terrible when you wake up.”

“Where’s Bones?”

“In class,” says Jaylah. “Drink your water, James T.”

“Water’s gross.”

“Christ,” says Scotty. “Drink the fucking water, Captain.”

“Hey, if I’m the captain, shouldn’t I be giving _you_ orders?”

“You’re compromised right now. Both emotionally and mentally. The crew is then to follow the orders of the first officer.”

Of course Jim starts crying again. “My first officer is _Spock_.”

Scotty sighs. “Of course it is.”

“I’m sleepy.”

“Drink the water and you can go to bed.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Jim grabs the water, spilling a little on his shirt, and starts gulping it down. It tastes terrible. And it doesn’t have that friendly burn that whiskey has.

“You done?”

Jim tips the cup over, spilling at least a mouthful of water on the ground. “Empty.”

“Okay. Come on.” Scotty takes his arm and pulls him upward. “Hope you don’t mind sleeping in Bones’s bed.”

“Does he have a mattress?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Okay, well, as long as there’s a mattress.” Jim stumbles when they reach the hallway, and he grabs Scotty’s shoulder for support. “Hey, uh. If Spock calls, can you tell him I’m busy? I don’t want him knowing that I got drunk.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Thanks, Scotty.”

He drops Jim onto the bed and Jim curls into the blankets, but he can’t for the life of him fall asleep. The alcohol swirls inside of his stomach; the memories do the same in his head. And he _can’t_ get to sleep.

So instead he just stays on his back and stares at the ceiling.

Bones’s bedroom has a wonderfully, remarkably, beautiful plain ceiling. It might actually have something on it, but in the darkness, with the blackout curtains blotting out the glow of the sky and the little cloth stuffed under the door to hide the angry glare of the hallway light, it looks blissfully plain. No stars whatsoever. No reminders that Jim is alone and will probably be alone for the rest of his shitty life.

But also.

The bed is warm and, when he moves, he can feel the sheets rustle against his skin. And he remembers Spock. And he starts crying again.

“Jim?”

How long has he been lying here? Bones is already home?

He comes to sit by Jim and brushes the hair from his forehead. “Scotty and Jaylah told me how they found you earlier.”

“Sorry about your whiskey.” It’s all Jim can spit out before the world starts spinning and he has to smash his face against the cool side of the pillow for a few minutes.

“Okay,” Bones says quietly. “It’s okay. Wait here for a second?”

“Wait,” says Jim. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Bones, wait.”

“I’m already back. Here, open your mouth.”

Dutifully, Jim opens his mouth. Bones shovels soup in. Something brothy. “Ugh. What is that?”

“Delicious.”

“Yeah. It is delicious.”

“Eat.”

“Why are you all so concerned about me, God.”

“Because you’re only eighteen years old, and you’re drunk and crying on somebody else’s bed. My bed, I’d like to point out. And let me just say again that you’re eighteen years old. And you have a college kid spoonfeeding you vegetable soup.”

“It’s good soup.”

“I know, Jim.”

“But it’s gross. I don’t want any more.”

“Eat two more mouthfuls and you can go to sleep.”

“But it’s _gross.”_

“You said it was good.”

“Peoples’ minds change, Leonard.”

Bones makes a face. “You never call me Leonard.”

“Sorry. Lenny.”

“Eat your fucking soup and then go to sleep, you asshole.”

 

Vulcan~

Spock believes he has found the perfect system: if he drinks and eats just the right amount at just the right times, he only needs three bathroom breaks throughout the day, and they are perfectly timed so he can greet his mother in the morning, see his father off to work, and have afternoon tea with his mother--something she deemed necessary. If he follows the system, he has no need to rise excessively, and he can get the most amount of work done.

What is troubling, however, is that Amanda comes in at least once every hour to try to talk to him.

“Spock.”

“I am studying, mother.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you no matter what, but is this really what you want to do?”

“Yes, mother.”

This conversation--or variants of it--repeats several unnecessary times.

Once, his father calls him. It is an hour after teatime. When he hangs up, he sees Jim’s face come up in his contacts.

The picture that Jim programmed in is the one from their night under the stars.

Spock deletes the contact, looks at the picture for thirty seconds more, and then deletes that, too.

“Spock?”

“We just had tea, mother,” says Spock impatiently, putting down his phone and turning back to work. She comes closer and reaches out, brushing her hand across Spock’s cheek, catching a tear that Spock hadn’t noticed before. “There was likely something in my eye,” he says. “You know it is about this time of the year that the pollen begins irritating my--”

“I know,” Amanda says. She wraps him in a hug.

“Something in my eye,” Spock tries again.

“Do you want to go get milkshakes or something? There’s a tourist trap that opened while we were gone and I’m told their milkshakes have an ‘interesting composition’ by the neighbors.”

Spock pauses. “Our neighbors to the north or south?”

“South.” Amanda laughs. “Come on. You know the ones to the north are, like, the worst.”

“They are terrible,” Spock admits.

“So? What do you think? Do you want milkshakes?”

“I suppose I could take a small break.”

“Okay. Be out the door in five minutes. Love you, honey.” She leans forward and presses a kiss to his head, much to his chagrin.

“I love you, mother.”

She stops in the doorway. Turns around. “What did you say?” There is a smile on her face. Spock’s cheeks burn.

“It is unimportant.”

 

A few hours later, they’re both seated at the bar in this “tourist trap” as Amanda earlier referred to it, and Spock finds that he is actually quite comfortable. Amanda is laughing next to him and he--he is being left alone. Nobody has approached him or mocked him. The Vulcans visiting the shop to explore have not even spoken to him.

Of course, this is because, before they left, Spock donned the woolen black cap he wore while on Earth, and, with his pointed ears hidden, most Vulcans do not recognize any Vulcan features he might have.

He thinks his eyes are more helpful in allowing him to pass as human--that is, aside from the hat. They are his most human feature, and he likes to take advantage of them when he can. If he slouches and hides his ears and keeps the speaking to a minimum, he can easily pass as human.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Amanda nudges him and sucks at her milkshake through her twisted straw.

“I was pondering my capability of passing as a human,” Spock says.

“Yeah? And how’d you do?”

“No Vulcans have called me out on either my human features or my human mother, so I believe I am doing quite well.”

“Do you want to do well?”

“Of course. If people recognize me as being half Vulcan and half human, I will surely be scorned as I usually am.”

“I’m really sorry, Spock.”

He bites on the end of his straw. “For what, mother?”

“For putting you in this situation. I know you’ve always had trouble fitting in, and I’m, well. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Spock says calmly. “You have, like me, no control over your race.”

“I had you. I had control over that.”

“To my understanding, yours and Sarek’s marriage was engineered to improve the political relations between Earth and Vulcan.”

“Oh, honey. Is that what you think??”

Spock levels his gaze at her. “It is what I know.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” She shrugs when Spock frowns. “You are.”

“I do not believe that I am.”

“Have beliefs ever played a part in Vulcan debates?”

Spock wants to swear but he does not want to draw any attention to himself. “No.”

“And you don’t know all of the facts, either.”

He chews a little harder on his straw. “Perhaps you would be willing to enlighten me.”

“Yeah, okay.” She lifts her hand at the bartender. “Can we get some refills?”

“I do not need a refill.”

“Nobody _needs_ a refill.”

“Then I fail to--”

“Spock, just enjoy it. Thank you.” She smiles at the bartender before she turns back to Spock and begins nursing her new shake. “Spock, your father and I agreed to consider marriage for the sake of strengthening his ambassadorship. But we got married because we fell in love.”

Spock pulls his mangled straw from his cup and sticks a new one in. “I do not understand.”

“We fell in love, Spock. That was the real reason we married each other. And we had you for the same reason.”

“It must have been logical in some way. Vulcans--”

“Don’t always make decisions based on logic. Your father never participated in kolinahr. You know that.” She reaches over and touches his wrist, wrapping her fingers around his sleeve. “Honey, I know your father seems emotionally unavailable a lot.”

“Always,” Spock mutters, but Amanda continues as if she did not hear him.

“But he’s filled with… so much love. He just doesn’t know how to express it.”

“He is fully Vulcan, mother. Emotions are unimportant.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

Spock sucks furiously at his straw.

“Don’t you?” Amanda’s voice is very soft.

“I am not entirely Vulcan. My opinion is insignificant and invalid.”

“I always want to know your opinion, Spock. And.” She sighs. “And I need you to know that, even if you were fully Vulcan, you would still be in love with that boy.”

Spock’s grip around his cup gets tighter. “I do not--”

“Don’t say you don’t know who or what I’m talking about. You’ve been moping all day.”

“I have not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I have been studying. Any feelings I have or have had for James Kirk are irrelevant and/or negligent. The two weeks I had with him are over. It is time to concentrate once again on my studies.” He pushes the rest of his milkshake away. “Studies to which I should be returning. Excuse me.”


	16. Monday

Earth~

When Jim wakes up, his head is fucking exploding. The light coming in through the tiny crack between Bones’s blackout curtains feels like a knife in his brain.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, burrowing under the covers. He hears the door open and somebody approaches. The smell of something heavy snakes into Jim’s nostrils.

“Get up, Jim.”

“Close the curtain. Please.”

Bones sighs. “Okay. It’s closed. Now get up.”

Jim, grumbling, pokes his head out. Bones is in front of him with a big plate of greasy food and a bigger glass of water. “I want you to eat all of this and drink all of this.”

“What? Why?”

“It’ll help with your hangover. A hangover which would be worse, by the way, if Jaylah and Scotty hadn’t practically poured water down your throat. You know you drank _all_ of my whiskey?”

“Sorry.”

Bones sighs and sits at the edge of the bed, putting the plate on Jim’s lap and the glass in Jim’s hand. “There’s school today.”

“Fuck. What time is it?”

“You aren’t going. I called in sick for you. And I called Sam.”

Jim shovels a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and grimaces at the grease that immediately coats his tongue. “Thanks.”

“Just. Stay in bed and get yourself hydrated and just. Get better, okay?”

“I’m…” Jim rubs at his eyes. “I feel like shit, Bones.”

“That’s what happens when you drink that much.”

“I miss him. He was… everything.”

“No he wasn’t.”

“He was, though.” Jim’s eyes droop and he lets them stay closed for a moment. “I lost my virginity on Friday. The night before he left.”

“This is… not something that I want to hear.”

Jim, because he’s a baby, starts crying.

“Oh, fuck. Fine. I’ll stay.” A hand falls onto Jim’s shoulder. “Well, uh. I think I’m supposed to say that he isn’t worth your tears.”

“He’s always worth my tears, Bones. And it was me who fucked up, anyway.”

“Jim, virginity is an arbitrary concept that should have been demolished in the Dark Ages. You might think it’s special, but that doesn’t mean he has to hold any power over you. You can...you can love him, and you can mourn the loss of your relationship, but you’ll find somebody who’ll refuse to leave. Somebody who loves you enough to stay.”

Jim sniffles. “I don’t want anybody else. I don’t want anybody else but him.”

“Okay,” Bones sighs, and Jim feels him rise off the bed. “Get up. I’ll grab the water and you grab the food.”

Jim opens his eyes. “Where are we going?”

“The living room. We’re going to color some pictures with Jaylah and Scotty.”

“Coloring?” Jim asks.

“Trust me,” says Bones, “I’m a doctor.”

 

Vulcan~

At school, Spock is suddenly reminded of how unintelligent and insignificant he is. The Vulcans around him, they will always be better. And he, Spock thinks sullenly, will always feel out of place.

The only time he’s ever felt like he belonged when he was with Jim.

He thinks about this as he goes through the school day, and there is a brief time when he considers changing his mind and going with what his human side wants, but.

Well, he’s already thought about this. A plethora of thought went into this. To turn back now would be foolish.

After school, he pulls out his phone and presses the first contact on his list. It rings twice before somebody answers in monotone.

“I would like to set an appointment,” Spock says.

“Please state a convenient day and time.”

“Saturday. Six a.m.”

“Confirmed. You are expected at Saturday at six in the morning.”

They both hang up and Spock takes a moment to breathe before he walks home. Amanda is waiting in the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?”

Vulcans do not lie.

Spock goes to his room without providing an answer.


	17. Tuesday

Earth~

There are a few things that Jim does not want to be, and among those things are being obnoxious, being pathetic, and being needy.

Right now, Jim is all of these things. It’s horrible.

He tries to be okay--act okay, that is--but he’s horrible at faking it. He’s very obviously _not_ okay.

“Hey, Captain.” Uhura drops down next to him and smiles gently. “How are you doing?”

Jim looks at her and presses his lips together.

“I miss him, too.”

He looks down at the ground for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then glances back at Uhura, putting on a big smile. “It was good while it lasted.”

“You don’t have to minimize your relationship. I know how important he was to you.”

“Minimizing our relationship makes it less painful,” says Jim brightly.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me, you know. I”m being a whiny pissbaby.”

“No you aren’t. It’s okay to be upset.”

“I almost texted him yesterday.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “But?”

“He hasn’t contacted me. He hasn’t even tried. I feel like, if he wanted to contact me, he would have done so already.”

“Maybe he’s thinking the exact same thing. You haven’t contacted him so he thinks you’re mad at him.”

“He’s the one who left.”

“Oka., Jim, well. You know he didn’t have a choice. He is still living with his parents and he has to go where they go.”

Jim’s tired of talking about this. “How did you two meet?”

“Me and Spock?”

“Yeah.”

“The administrators asked me to show him around campus and get him situated over the weekend.”

“Were you two close?”

Uhura gets a funny look on her face and Jim immediately feels terrible.

“I’m sorry. I should just--”

“Don’t apologize. I was just thinking.” She pauses, rubbing her face. “We were friends. We weren’t nearly as close as you and him were, obviously, and I kept messing up because I don’t know enough about Vulcan culture, but, yeah. We were friends.”

“He was… everything.”

Uhura reaches over and takes Jim’s hand. Her palm is soft. “You’ll be happy again,” she tells him.

“Yeah?”

“I promise.”

He rests his head on her shoulder and sighs, tearing up again.

“The thing about happiness,” she says after a moment, “Is that once you get a taste of it, missing it hurts so much more than never having it at all.”

“Better to have loved then lost than to have never loved at all,” Jim mumbles.

“I don’t know about that, but I do know it’s more painful.”

He wipes at his eyes. “You get me, Uhura.”

“Well, I try.” She smiles and kisses his forehead. “I think Chekov is up next.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“It means he’s gonna be over here in about twenty seconds to give you a giant-ass hug. And then Sulu is gonna tackle you from behind. And I think Chapel is due to come by at some point.”

“That’s… a lot of people.”

“I know you want Spock. I know. But just. Remember that we’re all here for you, okay? For anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Captain.”

 

Vulcan~

He raps lightly on the door, and his hand shakes a little each time his knuckles connect with the wood.

“You may enter.”

He enters. Sarek is sitting at his desk, writing carefully into his log.

“Is there something you need?”

“I seek to converse with you. Are you available or should I return at a later time?”

“Now is fine,” says Sarek. He closes the log and pushes it away, spinning his chair to face his son fully. Spock is always uncomfortable when he has his father’s attention--he always fears that he will mess something up and have to sit through another one of Sarek’s lectures. “Speak.”

“Why did you marry Mother?”

“It was logical, of course,” says Sarek. “It improved my diplomatic status and my ambassadorship.” Then he lifts his shoulders. “I loved her, as well.”

Sarek saying these words sends a jolt through Spock. “Was it worth it?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Now Spock is uncomfortable. “The scorning you get. Every day Vulcans are saying that you have dishonored Vulcan tradition. Was it worth it, marrying her?”

Sarek, for the first time, smiles. It is not a warm smile, but it is a smile nonetheless, and it sends Spock into a shocked silence. “Spock, one must understand that, when Vulcans care for someone, they care deeply. Once one suprasses the urge to only embrace logic and accept that even Vulcans have emotions--emotions arguably stronger than those of humans, however suppressed, scorn has no effect. It is illogical to allow any negative criticism to have effect.”

“So because you care about mother… it does not matter how people dislike you?”

“Exactly.” He tilts his head, now, and the smile fades away. “I believe it is now time to inquire as to why you are so curious on this matter. Does this relate to your status as half human and half vulcan? I do not think my relationship with your mother very much applies.”

“No,” says Spock, “No. It doesn’t apply at all.”


	18. Wednesday

Earth~

After awful day at school, Jim goes over to Uhura’s house for a movie. She’d texted him in the last period and at first he hadn’t wanted to but she’d insisted so, reluctantly, he’d agreed.

Now he pushes the door open shaking his head, and goes to the living room.

It’s full. Everybody is there--Bones, Jaylah, obviously Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu--either squeezed onto the couch or the love seat or stretched out across the floor.

“Shit,” says Jim, “What did I do?”

“Well, it’s more what you _aren’t_ doing,” says Sulu.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re a disaster, Jim,” Bones drawls.

“We, uh.” Uhura reaches over and covers Bones’s mouth before he can continue. “We have a proposition for you.”

“This doesn’t feel like you’re proposing anything,” says Jim uneasily. “It feels like an intervention.”

“We want to propose OGOS,” says Chekov, and Uhura nods.

“Operation Get Over Spock. You can’t let him have a hold on you all your life.”

“What, you want me to just forget about him?” Jim asks.

“We’re concerned,” Sulu says. “I mean. Bones was right, Captain. You’re a disaster.”

“You’re falling apart more than usual,” Chekov adds. Jim glares at him. Being a backstabbing traitor was probably invented in Russia, too.

“It’s only been a few days.”

Bones scoffs. “Yeah. But I’ve found you passed out drunk in my bed. Those two”--he jerks a thumb to Scotty and Jaylah--“found you drinking yourself to death in our kitchen.”

“It’s only been a few days,” Jim says. “I mean, come on. It’s just a bad breakup. I’ll stop being so pathetic by, like, Saturday. I just have to get through the stages of grief or whatever.”

Everybody looks doubtful. Even Jaylah, who barely even knows Jim and hasn’t said a single word, looks doubtful.

“Jesus, fine. Give me until Saturday to decide.”

“Okay,” says Uhura. “I want a call from you by twenty-three hundred. Got it?”

“Sure.” He waits a beat. “We weren’t ever going to watch a movie, were we?”

“We can watch one now,” she offers.

“Nah, I’m just. I’m just going to go.” He lifts a hand. “Bye, everybody. Thanks for being super weird and all, but.” Then he shrugs and back out, all of which makes the situation about ten times more awkward than if he had just walked out like a normal human being.

He gets on the bus and goes to the same goddamn park that he and Spock went to--because apparently other parks just. Don’t exist--and he sits on the bench and looks up at the sky.

It’s still early afternoon, so he can’t see Vulcan, but that’s okay. Jim has a picture.

He pulls out her phone and opens the picture. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

When he first met Spock, Jim thought he was so stoic and emotionless and shit. But now he realizes that that was because he only paid attention to what usually gave emotion away--at least in humans: his mouth, his eyebrows, his body language--and Spock only uses all of that when he just doesn’t give a shit anymore. No, Jim should have paid attention to Spock’s eyes, because that’s where all of the expression is. In this picture, Spock’s eyes are a beautiful, wonderful mixture of bewilderment and laughter. “Oh, fuck,” Jim whispers, closing his own eyes and leaning his head back. “I miss you so much.”


	19. Thursday

Vulcan~

Spock goes for a walk in the gardens near his home.

Said gardens are not very popular. Any significant botanical research is either done in a lab or a completely natural environment--gardens, outside and planted with Vulcan hands, are an uneasy middle.

Perhaps this is why Spock is so very fond of them.

When he was younger, he came here far more often. There was something about the way nature felt that helped Spock relax a little. However, as his classmates grew older, they started using the gardens as elementary means of study, and as soon as they saw Spock, he came to experience what was probably the most savage beating of his life.

Afterward, when he had asked Sybok, he found that one does not usually act as he does in nature.

“Why not?” Spock had asked.

“Come, now,” said Sybok. “What is the logic in this?”

It had been many years since Spock had really been himself in nature. He scarcely remembers what it feels like at all.

Afterward, sometimes he would take off his shoes and just slip out the window and just sit down in the grass. Sometimes he would think. Sometimes he would meditate. Sometimes he would just do nothing at all. He has not done this since his trip to Earth.

He has not done this since he met Jim.

Spock sinks onto a bench in the far northeastern corner of the gardens. It is well-hidden--more so than the other benches--and Spock finds great comfort in this.

The wind blows through the trees and Spock closes his eyes for a moment, just listening to the soft rustle.

Perhaps he should try again.

 _If it matters, the scorn should not_.

What effect would have any scorn, anyway?

Spock rises from the beach and walks along the little dirt pathway for a few minutes, breathing in the geosmin, relishing the sink of his feet in the soft ground beneath him.

He stops in front of a towering salicaceae.

He spent a great amount of time under this tree as a child. He liked the solitude and it was harder for the other Vulcans to find him behind the blanket of leaves.

Carefully, he reaches out. Carefully, he touches the calloused bark with his fingers.

He feels a little rush. He knows it is ridiculous that he is so affected by nature and being in nature, but it matters to him.

He sits down in the shade of the salicaceae and slips off his shoes. He lets his toes sink into the vines and the leaves and the cool soil and lets himself breathe.

After some time, he rises, leaving his shoes hidden in the leaves, and walks along the pathway, running his hands through all of the plants lining the pathway. He feels more natural in a setting like this. He felt more natural under the stars with Jim.

No. No, do _not_ think about Jim. Think about what being alone feels like. Think about what pursuing knowledge feels like. Think about what science feels like.

“Spock?”

He pauses.

“It is you, is it not?”

“T’Pring,” Spock says coolly, turning. She stands in front of him, regal and tall. There is something slightly off about her, and Spock does not know exactly what it is. “I did not know you frequented the gardens.”

She just looks at him. Spock thinks he hears her sniff.

“It is a pleasure to see you again,” he tries.

“I almost forgot your tendency for theatrics,” she says, “Although I did not forget your inclination to act so barbarically.”

Spock tries to take a deep breath, and she gives him a look. Spock does not fully understand this look. As they are betrothed, Spock thought the connection between them would be a little stronger, but he cannot, no matter how he tries, connect with her.

Perhaps it is his fault. He had connected with Jim so completely, and now he cannot properly connect with T’Pring.

“I assumed, after the feedback you received when you were younger, that you would cease this… peculiar behavior.”

“It is only logical to understand one’s surroundings, T’Pring.”

She sniffs again, spins on her heel, and walks away.

Spock does not quite know what to do with this. Puzzled, he continues walking in the garden, though he touches the plants a little more hesitantly.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

No, it wasn’t a mistake. _If it matters, scorn should not._

But he nearly collides into another person.

“Hello,” says Spock.

“Hello,” says Stonn. He rubs the back of his neck and nods a few times. “Pleasure to see you, Spock.”

“Yes,” says Spock. “The same to you.” He tilts his head. “Are you well, Stonn?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Perhaps you should rest,” says Spock. “You seem...weary.”

“Yes. Perhaps that is best.” Stonn, oddly, gives Spock a half-smile. “I will...see you...around, Spock.”

Spock tilts his head again, unsure of how to answer.

“Farewell,” says Stonn.


	20. Friday

Earth~

Jim probably makes at least three terrible decisions per day. At two this morning, instead of trying to squeeze in five hours of sleep before rushing to school, Jim drank an entire pot of coffee. While getting ready for school, he chose an itchy wool sweater that irritated his skin so much that he had to borrow Uhura’s camisole to wear instead.

Right now, he’s doing a database search for Spock.

He supposes it’s comforting in its own way that it will be his last mistake of the day, but other than that, it’s pretty terrible.

He types Spock’s name in and almost a gazillion results ome up--one of which is an article that details common Vulcan names.

Shit, okay, Jim thinks. Hopefully he can use mistakes ahead of time and he’ll only make two mistakes tomorrow.

He searches for ‘Ambassador Sarek’ this time, which has far less results, and clicks on the first link

It is an information page. It talks about how revolutionary Sarek’s work is, how he’s really making progress, blah blah blah. And then--there it is.

_Ambassador Sarek, family: Amanda, wife (human); Sybok, son (Vulcan);_

Jim pauses. Spock has a brother? Since when?

_Spock, son (half-breed);_

His blood boils a little, but he scrolls down a little more to read details.

_Spock is the first child of Ambassador Sarek and his wife, Amanda. He is half-Vulcan and half-human. This type of heritage is very rare; there is no official record of this ever happening before Spock’s birth. However, despite unusual circumstances, Spock was engaged to T’Pring (link) at age--_

Jim stops, breathing hard. _Engaged_? How could he be _engaged_? How could he have not told Jim? God, he must think Jim is such an idiot, professing his love when he was really just an affair. When he was really just hanging out with Jim to pass the time until he got back to his fucking _fiancee_.

Because he hates himself, Jim researches what it means to be married on Vulcan. He scrolls through the page, and his eyes catch on words like ‘telepathically bonded’ and ‘mates for life’ and he feels absolutely nauseated.

How could Spock have done this? Why didn’t he tell Jim?

Mates for life. Spock has a _life partner_. And Jim--Jim thought they could really have something.

Wow. He was really full of it, wasn’t he?

He goes back a page and clicks on the link for T’Pring.

Shit. She’s pretty--like, _really_ pretty. And she’s accomplished. She has a shitton of academic awards.

Jim studies her face. God, if Spock had to choose between Jim, a human disaster, and T’Pring, a Vulcan academic extraordinaire, there wasn’t going to be much of a debate. Hell, Spock’s already chosen. He’s on Vulcan with T’Pring and Jim is here on Earth, totally alone.

Not totally. But sometimes it feels that way.

He closes the page and looks at his computer’s background--a picture he took of Spock while they were at the museum. Spock is standing in front of a giant painting of the first starship, hands folded together behind his back, head tilted up. It’s probably Jim’s second favorite picture of Spock. He looks so calm. So peaceful. Also it was in the height of their relationship, so Jim feels little warm fuzzies and sharp stabbing whenever he looks at it.

“Alright,” he says. “Okay. You’re fine, Jim. You’re okay.”

He opens another browser window, pulls up the database results for Vulcan, and pretends that his research is purely for scholarly purposes.

 

Vulcan~

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

There is something in Amanda’s eyes that Spock does not like. “Why do you ask?” He pronounces the words carefully, unwilling to give anything away.

“Well, somebody called today asking for you to confirm an appointment. They said--”

“Mother,” says Spock quickly. “We are at lunch.”

She pauses and glances across the table at Sarek, who seems engrossed in his food (Spock knows better), and Sybok, who arrived just this morning and is not even trying to disguise how interested he is in the conversation. “So you don’t want to talk about it,” she says.

“It is a private matter.”

“An appointment?” says Sybok. Spock, uneasy, picks at his food. “Come on, Spock. What’s going on tomorrow?”

“I would prefer not to speak of it.”

“Spock--”

“It is an appointment to determine my compatibility,” Spock snaps. Sarek finally looks up and raises an eyebrow. “My apologies,” Spock says, more calmly now. He takes a bite of the saute and chews decisively.

“I assume, for your actions, you have an explanation?”

“Of course. The appointment I have tomorrow determines my compatibility with and therefore my chances of completing kolinahr.”

The table goes very quiet. Amanda lowers her gaze and presses her lips together.

“Kolinahr?” Sybok asks, notably distressed. “Spock, what the fuck are you _thinking_?”

“Sybok.” Sarek’s voice is quiet and dangerous. Sybok shakes his head.

“No, Dad. Don’t pretend this isn’t a big deal. This is a _huge_ deal! Emotions are such a big part of Spock’s life! Hell, he’s _half_ emotion! He can’t--”

“It is my choice, Sybok,” says Spock calmly. “It is my mind and it is my body and therefore it is my choice and my choice alone to make.”

“Not while you’re still in the house! Mom. Dad. Tell Spock he can’t do this.”

“I will not tell him what he can and cannot do,” says Sarek. “I trust that Spock has thought this through.”

“I have thought this through.”

“Mom? Are you going to say anything?”

Amanda wipes at her eyes a few times. “I--I can’t tell Spock not to do this, Sybok. He didn’t choose to have all of these emotions. If he wants to get rid of them, I’m not going to object. I’m going to support him in whatever he does.”

“Mom, come _on._ ”

“I’m not finished yet.” She leans forward, now, and reaches across the table to touch Spock’s wrists. “I’m going to agree with your father in that you’ve probably through this through already. But have you conversed with James?”

Spock pulls his hands away. “James does not and will not have a say in this.”

“Okay. Okay, if that’s what you think is right.”

“No. I’m not going to listen to this! Spock, why would you even consider doing this?”

“It is the most logical pathway, Sybok. I have too many emotions, and they constantly disrupt my day-to-day life. Especially with my trouble with T’Pring, I--”

“Your trouble with T’Pring,” Sybok repeats. “What does that mean?”

“I have trouble with communicating with her. It is likely my fault, with.” Spock hesitates. “With all of my emotions.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sybok pushes his chair backward and stands up. “That’s absolute bullshit.”

“Sybok,” says Sarek, “Sit down.”

“No. I’m gonna figure out what all of this is about.” He walks away and Amanda buries her face.

“It was a mistake to talk about this,” says Spock.

“Yes,” says Sarek. He raises one thin eyebrow. “Especially at lunchtime.”


	21. Chapter 21

Vulcan~

Spock is up early.

His appointment is set at 0630, but he is up at 0200, unable to settle down enough to slip back into unconsciousness. So instead of lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Spock rises and dresses and takes a seat at his desk, pulling up the database results for kolinahr.

He has been researching the ritual since he was only a child; ever since he realized what a disadvantage his emotions puts him at, he wanted a way to get rid of them. Kolinahr was supposed to be an excruciatingly difficult process, but, if he can get through it, it will have been worth the trouble.

There is a knock at the door as he reaches the forty-seventh page, which details risks involved when the participant is emotionally compromised.

“Spock? It’s me.”

“You may enter.”

Sybok pushes open the door and slinks in somewhat sheepishly. “You’re up early.”

“My appointment is in four hours.”

“Don’t you think you should be getting some sleep?”

“Not necessarily. The process is just determining compatibility. It should not be exhaustive for anyone involved.”

Sybok nods a few times and then takes a seat on Spock’s bed. “I did some investigating.”

Spock arches an eyebrow.

“That’s very dad of you.”

“It is Vulcan.”

“Yeah, okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Anyway. I was investigating what was up with T’Pring. Why didn’t you tell anybody you were having trouble communicating with her?”

“It was not necessary.”

“Well I, uh. I talked with her and she had blocked you almost as soon as you two were engaged.”

Spock feels like something is compressing his chest. “She never… She never wanted anything to do with me.”

Sybok leans back in his chair. “Spock, this isn’t your fault.”

“There must be something I could have done.”

“No, Spock. It has nothing to do with you. T’Pring rejected you before you even met.”

Spock, suddenly exhausted, covers his face.

“It will be fine,” Sybok assures him

“You are likely correct.” Spock relaxes a little. “I will not have to deal with any of this soon.”

“Oh, come on, Spock. Don’t do that.”

“It is true, Sybok.”

Spock’s brother sighs, and then they are both quiet for a moment.

“I meant to ask you,” Sybok says. “Last night, Amanda asked if you’d contacted someone named James. That isn’t a Vulcan name.”

“It is not,” says Spock, “But I do not hear a question.”

“Well, who is he? Did you make friends on Earth while you were there?” He grins. Spock is uncomfortable with the expression on a face so similar to Spock’s. “Oh my god. Is he your boyfriend? Is that why you were so worried you were the one who messed it up between you and T’Pring?”

“No, Sybok. James, he is nobody.” Spock stands and straightens his shirt. “If you’ll excuse me, Sybok, I would like to return to my research. I do not want to forget anything vital.”

Sybok’s eyes are sad. “Please don’t do this, Spock.”

“It is what is necessary.”

 

He drives himself to the facility.

Along the way, he listens to a verbalized version of the database. There was much to go through--the last few hundred pages were all personal accounts from both successful and unsuccessful participants. It seems there are many different variables that determine whether or not someone will succeed; one participant failed because they were unable to handle the loneliness. One participant failed because they were unable to handle the physical stress kolinahr put on their body.

Spock is physically fit and does not require company, so neither of those things should be a problem for him.

He pauses the verbalization as he pulls into the parking lot, then shuts the car off. He has a few minutes yet to calm himself down, for which he planned. Yet these few minutes do little to calm his nerves. He does not know how to just stop thinking--he has not since he went to Earth.

“Another reason,” Spock tells himself, “To proceed. It is necessary.”

He pulls at the handle of his door and climbs out, smoothing down his sweater before he shuts the door again. For a brief moment, he wonders what Jim is doing on Earth--if perhaps he is happy with his friends, or quiet and sullen by himself. He wonders what kind of conversations they might have had if Spock had kept Jim’s number--if he had called him.

Then he pushes that thought away. It is not relevant. It will be even less relevant once this appointment is over.

“Spock?”

He pauses. He did not notice he had walked through the institution’s doors. “Hello,” he says tentatively.

“I assume you are here for your appointment.” The Vulcan behind the counter has a face that is pleasantly softer than most Vulcan features. Spock wonders if she has anything in else in her heritage.

“Yes.”

“You still have one minute. When comes that time, someone will be out to receive you.”

“Thank you.” He stands there, looking at his watch. At exactly one minute, the door opens and somebody walks in--a humam man with his hair pulled back in a severe bun.

“Spock,” says the man, tilting his head. “Please follow me.”

Spock trails after him, trying to keep his back straight, his arms stiff at his sides. They both walk into a back room--a sort of interrogation room. Spock spots a one-way mirror as he enters, and can’t help but wonder who will be on the other side when they’re talking to him.

“Have a seat,” says the man, gesturing to a small table with a chair on either side. Spock takes the one facing the mirror so everyone can see him better. He does not want to provide any reason for anyone to be suspicious of him. “I trust you are fully prepared to be honest with everyone here.”

“Of course.”

“We need you to sign some papers.” The man turns around and picks up a clipboard, which he hands to Spock. “The first stage is entirely a one-sided taroon-ifla, and the first page requires your signature that confirms you willingly went into it. The second page is relevant background information on the person who will be conducting the taroon-ifla if you require it to sign.”

Spock flicks through the second page and reads through it carefully. The conductor of the taroon-ifla went through kolinahr a decade ago, and succeeded. Emotions would not play a part in the interrogation, then. They were academically accomplished and knew several languages. The entirety of their life, according to the paper, has been dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge.

Spock realigns the top paper and picks up the pen fastened to the top of the clipboard. On the line provided, he signs S _’chn T’gai Spock_ and then slides both the clipboard and the pen back across the table.

“Everything seems to be in order,” says the man, looking the paper over. He presses a button and a slot in the wall opens, into which he inserts the clipboard. “I will be observing the taroon-ifla to ensure nothing goes wrong. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” The man turns around and nods at the mirror, and the door opens again. A tall, older vulcan enters. He comes around to sit down in the empty seat across Spock.

He moves stiffly. There is something blank in his eyes. It makes Spock uneasy.

“S’chn T’gai Spock,” the vulcan intones. “You understand that this taroon-ifla will be one-sided.”

“Yes,” says Spock. The vulcan reaches forward with one wrinkled and and, very gently, moves his fingers to connect with the qui’lari of Spock’s face. Spock feels a rushing sensation as their minds connect.

He has only participated in taroon-ifla once before--his father had wanted to teach him how to properly put up a block if somebody engaged in taroon-ifla against his permission, but that connection open in both ways--he got so much information from his father; he got that overwhelming sense of logic, the sense of duty, everything. But there was also something warm deep in the pit of Spock’s stomach which he couldn’t identify. The closest he has ever felt to this feeling was when he was with Jim.

This is much different. This feels… empty. The mind that latches itself to Spock’s thoughts is foreign and cold. It feels like ice is trickling down through the folds of Spock’s brain. It feels like his entire body is freezing.

And when the thoughts start flashing at the back of his eyes, they are only his own. He sees himself as a child, crying in a corner, dabbing at his lip, crying harder when his fingers come away green. He sees himself a little older, steeling himself as fists connect with his torso, some hitting his heart and making him black out for several seconds at a time. He sees himself barefoot in the gardens, smiling with each step, relaxing as the sun hits his face. He sees himself reluctantly agreeing to a two-week trip to Earth admitting that, yes, it will expand his sense of culture and give him an opportunity to explore the place on which his mother was born. He sees himself seeing Jim for the first time and his first thought being how utterly soft the boy looks--how gentle. He sees himself stargazing with Jim, feeling wonder even though he’s looked at the stars countless times before. He sees himself kissing Jim with both his hands and his mouth, holding him tight against his body, daring to let himself feel for the first time in such a very long time. He sees himself in his bedroom with Jim, their bare bodies sliding together, feeling deliciously hot and deliriously happy. He sees himself standing in the room afterward, feeling his chest tighten when Jim tells him that he loves him, feeling the appropriate response burning on his tongue, but choking it back when he realizes what kind of effect it would have on their relationship--what kind of effect it would have on Spock’s future. He sees himself ignoring every emotion as the shuttle lifts off the ground, ignoring the immediate pull to just pick himself up and rush through the doors, dropping to the concrete and sprinting back to Jim’s house, He sees himself studying so very hard to distract himself from everything, pretending that he is perfectly fine. He sees himself in the gardens again, trailing his hands through all of the plants, and, in the background, a very faint sign of kissing. He sees himself running into T’Pring only minutes later, and Stonn minutes after that. He sees himself at lunch with his family, calm in his decision to purge himself of all emotion, pushing Sybok’s outraged reaction from his consciousness. He sees himself being led into this room, sees fingers reaching toward his face--

The vulcan pulls away and regards Spock for some time. Spock’s mouth is dry and he realizes, suddenly, that he is shivering. The chilling intrusion of his mind left a filthy-feeling handprint, and Spock can nearly taste it on his tongue.

Then the vulcan stands and walks out of the room. Spock feels so weak he almost collapses onto the little wooden table.

“He’s never done that before,” says the man with the bun, cocking his head. Spock is shivering so much now that he slides a little out of his seat and has to push himself back up so his spine is flush with the back of the chair. “Are you well, Spock?”

“I am--” Spock’s teeth chatter and he pauses for a moment, trying to still the movement of his jaw. “I am well.”

“He often has this effect on people, though I must say this occurrence is most curious.”

Spock needs some way to distract himself from the cold. “How so?”

“The effect has never been this severe, and he has never left the room before.”

So something had gone wrong, probably because of his human side.

“I will go see what is keeping the results,” says the man. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“I do not know,” says Spock honestly.

“I’ll be right back.” The man moves out and Spock rests his head on the table, trying to take deep breaths. That taroon-ifla had really done a number on him. He knows it is dramatic, but he feels as if he will never again feel warm.

The door opens again and the man comes in, looking sullen. “Spock.”

Spock lifts his head. “Yes?”

“You will not be able to participate in kolinahr. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Spock suddenly feels dizzy. “Why?”

“He said something about your emotions being too strong.”

“Can I speak to him?”

“He’s compromised.”

“That’s impossible. The background sheet said that he went through kolinahr. He can’t be compromised.” Spock knows he is using contractions but he cannot seem to stop himself. “Please just let me--”

“Spock,” the man says gently, “You can’t talk to him.”

Spock takes in a shaky breath, braces his hands on the table, and tries to push himself upward, but his arms collapse underneath his weight and he falls back into his chair.

“Hey, hey.” The man rushes forward. “I can help you out.”

“I do not understand what could have gone wrong. I need to rid myself of my emotions. How could they refuse me?”

The man takes Spock’s forearm and lifts him out of the chair. “I saw that you’re half human.”

“Yes.” Spock stumbles when he gets to his feet, but the man catches him before he falls this time. “It has hindered my progress for my entire life.”

“What progress?”

“My academic progress and my social progress, largely.”

“Really? Why do vulcans care?”

“Vulcans have a tendency to cherish tradition.”

“That’s counterproductive, isn’t it?” The man pushes open the door and holds it open as he helps Spock through. “If Vulcan refuses to accept those of other races and the mixing of races, it robs vulcans of the chance to have any sort of genetic variance and therefore any chance to evolve.”

Spock, frowning, looks over at the man. He has a beautifully symmetrical face, but looking at his sharp features just makes Spock have an intense longing for Jim’s softer countenance. “What are you insinuating?”

“It’s illogical to reject you, and it’s definitely illogical to bully you about it.”

“I never said I was bullied.”

The man laughs. “I know what it looks like when you’ve been bullied. You don’t need to be ashamed about it.”

“I am not ashamed.”

The man looks at his face and a small smile curves at his mouth. “Okay,” he says. “Duck your head down. You don’t want Balev spotting you.”

“Balev?” But Spock lowers his head and hides it behind the man.

“She’s the receptionist. Very grouchy.”

“She seemed pleasant to me.”

“You don’t work with her.” The man pushes open the door and the warm air hits Spock’s face, warming his skin but nothing within him. “Where’s your car?”

“This way.” Spock gestures to the sleek black vehicle a few spots away from them and the man helps him get the door open. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem at all. Really.” He smiles at Spock, now, and then leans forward. “Spock, listen. Please don’t be upset about not being able to do kolinahr. It isn’t that you were too weak or anything. I think it was the opposite of that. I think your emotions were just… so strong. I’ve never seen Spelak do anything even remotely resembling emotion but when I went out to check on him, Spock, he was… well.”

Spock, in the driver’s seat, waits for him to continue.

“He was crying.”

“That is impossible. He went through kolinahr himself. It is impossible for him to have emotions.”

“I saw what I saw. You should, uh. You should think about that.” He offers the ta'al. “Live long and prosper, Spock.”

“Peace and long life.”

 

Earth~

Jim wakes up at nine at night with a massive hangover.

Shit, what did he _do_ last night? What did he do all day?

He rolls out of bed and grabs his phone, scrolling through all of his notifications before unlocking it so he can read everything.

His phone is all set to dial Spock.

Shit.

Cursing, Jim opens up his recent calls and scrolls through them. A few missed calls from Bones, two from Chekov, one from Sulu, one call with Uhura that lasted twenty-four point three seconds. And then one call at six-forty-five in the morning. To Spock.

Oh, no fucking way. What was Jim even _doing_ up at six in the morning? Who in the world gets up that early?

And he doesn’t know if he is happy or extremely depressed that Spock didn’t pick up. Because on one hand, Jim didn’t mortify himself by talking to Spock drunk and embarrassing himself, but also? Spock didn’t pick up.

Jim called Spock and he didn’t pick up. That was the whole thing. Jim was scared Spock didn’t like him anymore because he never called or texted him but then Uhura brought up that maybe he’s thinking the exact same thing.

But Jim called him. And he didn’t pick up.

Jim dials Uhura and puts it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Make your decision yet?”

“Yeah.” Jim looks at the background of his computer and he tightens his jaw. “Let’s do it. Operation Get Over Spock. I think I need to.”


	22. Several Months Later: A Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blatant quoting of canon. Not even sorry about it.

Vulcan~

The desks in the half-circle around Spock are much higher than him--perhaps ten feet. It provides an intimidating aura for the meeting, and Spock does not entirely know why it is necessary. Perhaps it is a sort of strategy of sorts to make sure any applying vulcans definitely want to be a part of the academy.

The council looks down at him with unreadable faces. Spock knows that the two on the left and the one second from the right succeeded in kolinahr, so that likely plays a part.

“You have surpassed the expectations of your instructors,” says the one in the middle--a minister. “Your final record is flawless. With one exception.”

Spock arches an eyebrow.

“I see that you have applied to Starfleet as well.”

“It was logical to cultivate multiple options.”

“Logical,” says the minister, “But unnecessary. You are hereby accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy. It is truly remarkable, Spock, that you have achieved so much, despite your disadvantage. All rise.”

The members stand. Spock’s chest tightens.

“If you would clarify, Minister. To what disadvantage are you referring?”

“Your human mother,” says the minister simply.

Spock, in the moment it takes him to reply, thinks about his mother. He thinks about her soft gaze and her gentle laugh and the way she reaches over to him to touch his wrists when she knows he needs some kind of comfort. He thinks about Jim, with his laugh that sounds like he’s surprised he’s happy, with his smooth hands and his sweet kisses. He thinks about what his mother and his father told him about love.

“Council,” Spock says, “Ministers. I must decline.”

Concern flickers across the members’ faces. “No vulcan has ever declined admission to this academy.”

“Then, as I am half-human, your record remains untarnished.”

Sarek leans forward. “Spock, you have made a commitment to honor the Vulcan way.”

“Why did you come here before the council today?” the minister asks. “Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?”

His emotional need? “The only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude,” Spock says smoothy. “Thank you, Ministers, for your consideration. Live long and prosper.”

He pushes the doors open as he walks out and smiles when the sunlight hits his face.

 

Earth~

“One more round,” Bones says. “Just one more.” And then he raises his voice. “Next round on me!”

Everybody in the bar cheers. Uhura looks at him disapprovingly. “You don’t have enough money for that, Bones.”

“No. I totally do. I’ve been doing extra work outside of school. I’m _rich._ ”

“What you are,” she says, prying his fingers off his glass, “Is drunk.”

“It’s, you know. Whatever.” He takes the drink back and then nudges Jim, who’s slumped across the bar with a lazy smile on his face. “Dude! You’re graduated!”

“So is everybody in this room. You could have congratulated Uhura. Or Sulu. Or, uh. Chekov.”

“Chekov isn’t here. He’s still sixteen. He can’t drink.”

“Shit. I forgot he skipped grades. Grade? Grades.”

Bones sighs and knock back a shot. “What do you want?”

“Whiskey,” Jim says, even though his stomach is churning. He could really go for a swim right now. Doesn’t really matter if it’s in chlorine-filled pool water or a river or a lake or alcohol or any combination of these things.

“Okay,” Bones says, and he waves over the bartender. And then Jim’s glass if magically refilled and he starts draining it. “I’m gonna go see why Scotty’s on the floor,” Bones mumbles to Jim, sliding out of his barstool.

“Yeah. Sure. Uh-huh.” Jim’s stomach is still churning, but he finishes his whiskey and slams the glass down and then he immediately turns and pukes onto the floor.

Except it isn’t the floor. It’s some guy’s pants.

“Oh, shit.” Jim looks him up and down and realizes that the guy’s wearing a uniform. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry.”

“Alright,” says the guy. “I’m just… gonna go clean up.”

“I’m really sorry.” Jim trails after him to the bathroom, holding his stomach. “I’ll, uh. Help you clean it up.” He pulls at the paper towels and starts to wet them. He isn’t very good at cleaning shit, but he can sure as hell try. Also the toilets are nearby in case he loses the contents of his stomach again.

“Listen,” says the guy, “I can probably do this.”

“I wanna help.”

The guy sighs. “Okay. Can you get some more paper towels?”

“Sure.”

The guy dabs at his pants. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“I can’t promise I can answer it, but sure.”

“I heard your friends call you Kirk back there. You wouldn’t happen to be James Kirk, would you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“My name is Christopher Pike.” Now he looks a little too excited for a guy with bile all over his clothes. “I grew up hearing about your dad. I wrote my Academy dissertation on the Kelvin. You just graduated, right? You should join starfleet?”

Jim laughs a little. “With those uniforms? No way.”

Pike gets very serious very fast. “You could be a great man, you know. Your father saved eight hundred lives in the course of just twelve minutes of command.”

Jim feels even sicker. Pike, still rubbing at the stain, pauses to look up at him.

“I dare you to do better.”


	23. 2-3 Years After That: a Monday

San Francisco~

Spock rubs at his face, utterly exhausted. He should have started working on this weeks ago, but instead he started putting it together--Spock spares a moment to glance at his watch--about seven hours ago.

It’s almost done, but it’s also two in the morning. He had really made a massive mistake in starting his project so late.

His eyes drift to a close for a moment, and he slips into an uneasy dream:

_Right after he joins starfleet. Spock sits in front of his computer and scrolls frantically through his contacts, trying to find Jim. He can’t find anything in his deleted folder, either; he had rid himself of the number far to long ago for his phone to remember._

_“Maybe try looking it up?” Amanda, true to her nature, easily deduced what Spock was attempting to do. He goes to the search bar in his computer and types in ‘James Tiberius Kirk’. Hundreds of articles show up: The Kelvin Baby, The Miracle Baby, The Kelvin Newborn, et cetera. Spock tries ‘James Tiberius Kirk contact’ but nothing comes up. It is unavailable. The database explains that Jim’s contact information is unavailable to the public to “respect the privacy of the Kirk family”._

_Spock, desperate, finally checks the chess website._

_Address unavailable._

_“No, no, no.” Spock frantically slams his hand on the computer screen, even though he knows nothing will come of it._

_“No luck?” Amanda asks._

_“This was my last chance to contact Jim,” says Spock. “I don’t know how else to contact him. I don’t know how to find him.”_

_Amanda’s hand rests on his shoulder. “Honey, if it was meant to be--if you truly belong with each other--you’ll find him again. I promise.”_

Spock forces himself awake and reaches across his desk, downing a couple of mouthfuls of tea before he allows himself to breathe again.

He has not allowed himself to think about Jim for some time. When he was finally able to realize what being with Jim meant--when he finally realized how powerful their relationship was, how it made an emotionless vulcan shed tears just from experiencing what they had through taroon-ifla--it was too late. He could not find any way to contact Jim. For some time, he considered contacting the doctor, or perhaps Nyota or Hikaru or Pavel, but he was afraid of hostility. He did not want to intrude on their lives, and he did not want to damage his relationship with them or their relationship with Jim or, well. Anything.

He thinks, now, alone in his room with bags of exhaustion under his eyes, that allowing that fear to take hold was a critical mistake. He did not allow emotions to overcome him before, but when it really mattered, he allowed them to completely control his actions.

He may not resent his human side as much as he used to, but he resents it for that moment in particular.

He would contact one of them--the doctor or any of Jim’s other friends--but he worries that they are busy leading their own lives, that they would not care to patch him through to Jim. He does not even know if they are still in contact with Jim.

Perhaps his fear is overruling his mind again. Even so, he cannot bring himself to pick up his phone.

If it was meant to be, he will find him again. He has to be hopeful.

Shaking all of this from his head, Spock writes the last few paragraphs of his proposal, careful to keep his wording consistent with the rest of the paper. Sometimes, if he is not paying attention, his style will change. It got him into much trouble when he was younger on Vulcan, as many of his peers likened it to his vulcan and human sides essentially ‘battling it out’, but now it is a mere annoyance.

He finishes off the last line and then flips to the front of the paper. For a moment, he regards the blank title page with some trepidation. Then, brow furrowing, he puts his pen to the paper and slowly carves the words in:

An Examination and Improvement of the Kobayashi Maru.

{-}


	24. The Tuesday Right After!

It’s almost eleven, but Jim decides to go for a swim. The water heater is on and the sky is clear, so he doesn’t have to worry about cleaning or getting used to the temperature before he just dives in.

He swims the entire length of the pool before he finally comes up for air.

He’s gotten quite good at this. When OGOS started, he had to choose an activity to do to keep himself from wallowing in self-pity. He’d chosen chess until Bones intervened, slapping the back of his head none-too-gently and yelling at him for being “such a damn fool”.

Jim had always behind liked the water. When he was younger, he’d hold his breath and duck underneath the surface and pretend he was in space. Now, his love for water is a mix of that and the kind of power he feels every time he moves his arms.

He is in control. He isn’t a disaster. He’s put together.

Jim turns over and floats on his back for a few seconds, letting his muscles melt into the water.

His lungs have gotten a lot better since he started swimming, too. At the beginning, he could last maybe twenty seconds without blacking out. Now he can go a solid three and a half minutes at least without having to stop. Depends on the day. Sometimes it’s more, sometimes it’s less.

Jim ducks underwater and swims down to the bottom, letting his stomach skim the tiles as he makes his way back across the pool. If he swims just right, he feels like a human torpedo, almost.

There are a few pools at this recreational building--all outdoors. All of them have extra good cleaning systems and good lighting and are all about equidistant from the warm showers in the middle--the arrangement which, from the top, probably looks a lot like some kind of flower with rectangular petals and the cylindrical set of showers in the center. Jim really shouldn’t have a favorite since they’re basically all the same, but he does. It’s the pool that has a perfect view of Vulcan at around midnight.

He knows it’s unhealthy to keep holding out hope that they’ll see each other agian, but he’s just. He’s still hopeful. Maybe in a few years, when he finds his way onto a starship, they’ll take a trip to Vulcan and Jim can have some closure.

He knows why Spock left--he knows that he wanted to pursue his Vulcan side and completely ignore his human side; he knows he wants to put logic over emotion in every situation and that’s his choice because it’s his brain and it’s his life--but Jim wants the chance to just, well. Talk to him one more time. Properly tell him goodbye.

Jim checks his watch when he comes out of the water again. Quarter til midnight. He doesn’t have any classes until the afternoon, so he’s technically in no hurry to get out of here, but he should really consider going to sleep soon.

He plants his hands on the edge of the pool and pulls his body out of the water--that’s something else he got better at: upper body strength. He doesn’t even need the ladder anymore. Hell, he could probably do pushups if he wanted to.

Feet planted on the ground, he pads his way to the showers, where his bag is waiting with warm clothes and an even warmer towel.

“Cool,” Jim mutters to himself. “Cool, cool, cool, cool.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and then shakes his head like a wet dog, splattering water everywhere as he walked. When he reaches the showers, he starts twisting the handles until it’s the perfect temperature somewhere between molten rock and hot springs, and then he just stands underneath the faucet, letting it run over his face. He can hear different people still swimming around him, but he tries not to pay attention to any of them. He just tries to drown in the water.

Metaphorically, of course.

He used to not like the solitude. He used to hate it, actually. He couldn’t stand the silence. He couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts. It was really, really bad for a while. But he had a good group of friends, one of whom was the most stubborn person he’d ever met (“Dammit, Jim! What were you thinking? Get that shit outta my face. Get outta my face. I’m done with you. Wait, Jim. Wait. Did you want the rest of my pie?”); one a kid genius who could somehow connect literally everything to Russia (even Jim’s sorrows: “Did you know that the cure for depression was inwented in Russia?” he asked quietly, passing over a giant chocolate bar), one a dry swordfighting sassmaster with a knack for botany (“Have you ever poked a cactus? No? Don’t.”), and an actual goddess (“Jim. Don’t put that in your mouth. Don’t lick that statue. When was the last time you went swimming?”). All of whom helped pull him out of bed each morning and help him get his life together. He had Scotty and Jaylah, too. But also they always started talking engineering and Jim knows maybe two things about engineering. Almost nothing they said was comprehensible.

“Jim?”

He freezes.

It can’t be. It _can’t_ be.

He turns, wiping at his eyes, and squints into the darkness. It’s Spock. It’s _Spock_ . He’s standing there, a little taller than Jim remembers him, dressed in just a dark pair of swimming shorts. His skin is flushed a light green. His hair is dripping wet and pushed out of his eyes. That’s fucking _Spock_.

“It is you,” Spock says softly, stepping forward. “Isn’t it?”

Jim doesn’t say anything. He just stands there under the water and then he’s running forward and Spock is catching him and they’re hugging each other so tightly for so long and Jim feels so completely _right_ in those arms. He _missed_ those arms.

And then Spock pulls away and holds him at arm’s length and says, very sternly, “You should not run on a wet floor, Jim. It’s dangerous.”

Jim starts sobbing. He pushes into Spock’s arms again and just holds him. He’s the same height as Spock, now, which is weird because he can’t quite tuck his head under Spock’s chin, but he can bury his nose in the crook of Spock’s neck, now. Which is better.

“Out of all places,” Spock murmurs into Jim’s hair. “Out of all places, we find each other here, under the stars.”


	25. The Following Wednesday

Eventually Jim stops crying and they sit together at the edge of the pool, legs dangling into the water. For a long time, they don’t say anything. The silence feels both awkward and immensely comfortable at once.

Finally, Jim speaks: “So.”

He wants to keep speaking, but nothing else will come out. Spock doesn’t even turn his head, and Jim takes the opportunity to study him. The soft parts of his face have hardened and become angular. His cheekbones stand out more prominently; his jaw is much stronger; the muscles of his torso and arms and legs are more defined than before. He seems so much older and Jim is almost intimidated by it--has _he_ changed as much as Spock has? What about on the inside? Will Jim be able to recognize Spock if they started talking the way they used to?

“So,” Spock replies, voice clear and strong. Jim kicks at the water. It makes a pleasant splash.

“You joined starfleet after all, huh?”

“Yes.” Spock looks out across the water. The ripples makes his eyes shimmer.

Jim is aching with questions--why is he here? What happened to him? Why isn’t he in the academy? Did he ever think about Jim? Is he happy? Is he with anyone now? Does he have any friends? Is he okay with Jim being here with him?

He forces most of the questions down and comes up with just: “The academy didn’t work out?”

Spock’s mouth tightens. If Jim wasn’t looking for it, or if he hadn’t known that gesture from a thousand looks before, he probably would have missed it. “No. They accepted me, but I refused.”

There’s something in his voice. “Why?”

“We disagreed on a several points. It would not have been a good fit.”

Something wells up inside Jim’s chest.

“You came to starfleet,” says Spock. “Just like you planned.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Really?” He turns his head, now, and Jim feels like he’s being picked apart under his gaze. He forgot how intense it is to be looked at by Spock. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I almost gave up on everything. I don’t know. I guess I was gonna go work on cars or something for a living.”

“You would have hated that.”

“I don’t know. I like cars.”

“They do not fill you with the same kind of wonder as do the stars.”

Jim laughs a little. He’d forgotten how good Spock was at just seeing right through him. “Yeah, well. After graduation, I started drunk-puked on this guy’s starfleet uniform. He convinced me to turn my life around and join.”

“This...guy,” Spock says carefully, “Have you spoken to him since?”

“Who, Pike? Nah. I think he’s out on a five-year.”

“Pike?” Spock repeats. “Christopher Pike?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I met him a few years ago, while I was on Earth.” He says ‘while I was on Earth’ like it was the most casual, unimportant thing that has ever happened to him. He says it like one would say ‘while I was at the grocery store’ or ‘while I was eating cereal’. “He was just out of the academy.”

They both fall silent again.

“Pretty cool how we both got stationed at the same place,” says Jim after a moment.

“Yes.”

“What do you think about San Francisco?”

“I like San Francisco. I miss home, but…” He lifts his shoulders. “I feel as if I can make a difference here.”

Jim suddenly remembers everything that he had learned about Vulcan after Spock had left--not just pieces of their language and culture, but also about marriage. He remembers T’Pring. But how is he supposed to bring that up to Spock? What is he supposed to say? ‘Hey, Spock, are you married yet?’ or maybe, more mortifying: ‘Hey, Spock, why didn’t you ever tell me you were engaged to a really cute vulcan?’

“That’s what you deserve,” he decides on finally, choking back everything else.

“This feeling?”

Feeling in general, Jim wants to say, but instead he just nods.

“How have you been, Jim?”

Jim doesn’t know if Spock is talking about what happened right after Spock left or about school or about graduation or about the academy or about just life in general, so he says, “Okay.”

Spock looks at him disbelievingly.

“Don’t do that.”

“To what do you refer?”

“That look. Don’t give me that look.”

“My apologies.”

Jim hates this. He hates himself for making the situation so awkward. He hates that Spock hasn’t smiled at all when he smiled all the time before. Mostly he hates that he _expects_ everything to be the same when they were only together for, like, a week, and they’ve been separated for actual years. There’s no reason for them to be close again. Hell, the only reason Spock is here is probably because he feels he has some sort of obligation to appease Jim.

“Tell me about it,” says Spock. “How did you get here?”

So Jim talks. He talks about the end of high school and he talks about his graduation party and he talks about going to Bones’s graduation from medical school and he talks about entering starfleet with Bones and Uhura and Chekov and Sulu and them all going in different directions but somehow, amazingly, always finding time to talk, because they’ve always been there for him even when he was a giant piece of shit. He doesn’t talk about how messed up he was. He doesn’t ask Spock how he was. They talk for a little over an hour and then they get up and get dressed in the small set of dressing rooms just outside the borders of the flower-arranged pools and they start walking together. They have a brief conversation about their destination--How close is your apartment? Oh, I’ll just catch the bus. My residence is only a five-minute walk away; you can stay with me for the night--and then they’re off to Spock’s ‘residence’.

Jim feels a tiny little thrill that he gets to see where Spock ended up.

Of course, as soon as Spock’s ‘residence’ comes into view, Jim feels something dying inside of him.

See, he left for starfleet only a few months after he graduated. Spock had to have joined at around the same time. But Spock is here living in a really nice condo--like a _really_ nice condo--and Jim lives in an on-campus dorm.

“Hey, uh, Spock,” says Jim. “What rank are you?”

“Commander.”

“Oh.” Jim nods a few times as Spock twists the lock open. “Yeah. Makes sense.” He’s grateful that Spock, in return, doesn’t ask what Jim’s rank is.

“I do not have more than one bed, so you may stay in mine. I will get you new sheets, if you would like.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Spock glances at him but doesn’t object. Instead he just leads him through the what looks like a professionally-decorated apartment (Spock probably did the decorating, since he was good at everything else too), through a gaping archway, into a softly-colored bedroom. “There is no doorway,” he says. “I found quickly that I was not fond of confinement, and it was nevertheless unnecessary. I do not often have guests. I hope this is not a problem. If it is, we can hang up a curtain or something.”

That makes Jim feel immensely sad. “I don’t mind,” he says. Spock moves over to the closet and pulls out one pillow and a blanket. The latter looks like it’s made out of the same material as the sweater Spock gave Jim all those years ago--the sweater that Jim may or may not still have.

“Have a good night, Jim,” Spock says, and Jim realizes that that’s his cue to go into the bedroom.

“Yeah, Spock,” Jim says. “Goodnight.” He slips off his shoes before he steps onto the rug.

“Oh, wait,” says Spock. “Top drawer. There should be several sets of sleepwear. Kindly toss one to me. You may use a set as well, if you want.”

“Okay, thanks.” Jim tosses one over and then awkwardly hides behind the wall as he changes. “Goodnight,” he says again.

“Have a good night, Jim.”

Jim sinks into the bed--the mattress version of the sweater--and lets out a little sigh. The fact that Spock hasn’t touched him at all since that hug gnaws at his chest. That means that something is wrong, right? It does.

He falls asleep watching the flicker of moonlight off of Spock’s hair.

{}

Spock switches off his alarm at around six in the morning and rises from the couch. For a moment, he stretches in the empty space of the living room, then gathers the clothes that he placed folded at the base of the couch and takes them to the washing machine in the laundry room.

He had not considered that he would not have clothes in the morning. He had really, truly lost control of the once ever-present logic he had employed. Before his ‘rebellion’, he would have considered his lack of clothes. Now he will have to go into his bedroom and probably wake Jim.

He walks into his bedroom and digs into his drawers, pulling out a shirt, a sweater, a new pair of pants, and a pair of socks. As he turns to move out of the bedroom, the image of a sleeping Jim catches his eye.

Jim looks...so soft. His eyelashes are long against his lightly freckled cheekbones. His hair looks silky-smooth. Spock reaches out to touch it--to run his fingers through it--but quickly retreats his hand. He does not know how to interpret their relationship. He does not know how to act around Jim anymore, really. When they had those weeks together, it was immensely relaxing to be with Jim. Spock could smile. He could laugh. He could be, well. He could be human. But it had been several years since they had seen each other, and they had not parted on the best terms.

That was Spock’s fault. He can openly admit that. He just does not know how to fix that, or even if he _can_ fix that.

Spock leaves the room, gets dressed, grabs his proposal, and leaves, locking the door after him. About three minutes later, he is handing his proposal to his instructor.

She looks at him over her glasses and raises an eyebrow. Spock is painfully reminded of home. “Thi is your proposal?”

“It is, ma’am.”

“Very well. I should have your results in a week.” She leans forward, now, and gives him a tiny smile. “The work I have seen so far is promising, though, Spock. I would be surprised if this didn’t become a standard performance evaluation.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Spock goes back home and opens the door to Jim sitting cross-legged on Spock’s counter, looking comfortable in Spock’s pajamas, drinking something from a mug that he holds with both hands.

“Why do you have cocoa?” Jim asks. “I thought you got drunk off of chocolate.”

Spock raises an eyebrow as he hangs up his coat. “Yes, I do. That is exactly why I have chocolate.”

Jim starts laughing--a beautiful, familiar sound that Spock missed so much--and then, in an instant, becomes alarmingly serious. “Why do you need to get drunk, Spock?”

Spock braces himself in the archway to the kitchen. “I was unable to find you, Jim. One is tempted to try to forget their regrets at that point.”

Jim is quiet for a while. Then he holds out his cup of cocoa and says, “You want some?”

“No. I will just make my own cup.”

Jim slides off the counter and Spock slowly makes his own cup, using the powdered mix he purchased at the store a few months before. Then he sits on the couch, right across Jim.

“We should talk,” he says.

“Yeah. We should.”

Neither of them say anything. Spock sips at his cocoa and feels it start to affect the very corners of his mind.

“You left,” says Jim abruptly. “You never contacted me.”

Spock feels like his insides are rotting. “I know.”

“Why?”

Now his organs are imploding, his blood vessels bursting. “I was trying to be completely vulcan. I was trying to forget everything that made me human. But...a few things made me think differently.”

Jim drinks his cocoa a little more aggressively. “What made you rethink?”

“A conversation with my mother, firstly. We conversed about… love.”

Something changes on Jim’s face. Very calmly, he puts his mug down on the coffee table. Then he stands up, still calm. Then he walks to the door, opens it, and leaves.

Spock is unsure of what he did wrong. He is also unsure of what he is supposed to do.


	26. Thursday

Where the hell are you, Jim?”

Jim shrinks into his bed, hiding from the angry floating face of Dr. Leonard Mccoy.

“Are you in _bed_?”

“No,” says Jim.

“How long have you been there?”

Jim feels very small. “I don’t know. I’ve gotten up a few times.”

If Bones was wearing glasses, he would be glaring at Jim over them. “Well, I know you went swimming the day before yesterday.”

“Not since _then_.”

“Come on, Jim. Why weren’t you in history?”

“I saw Spock,” Jim mumbles, covering his mouth.

“Speak up. You know I can’t hear you.”

“I saw Spock.”

Boens takes a deep breath. Then he lets it all out, very slowly.

“Are you gonna say something?”

“Jim. You know this is gonna undo everything that OGOS did. You know that.”

“I just want closure.”

Bones rubs the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well. Did you talk to him.”

“We were, uh. We were going to?”

“What happened.” All of Bones’s questions are coming out flat and tired.

“I kinda ran out on him. I left all my clothes there and stole his pajamas.”

“I...don’t even know what to say to that.”

“He talked about what made him change his mind about making himself completely Vulcan. And the first thing he talked about was a conversation he had with his mom about love.”

The sound that comes out of Bones’s mouth is too much like a laugh.

“Why are you making that noise?”

“You walked out after _that_?”

“I panicked.”

“Christ, Jim.”

“What?”

“Get dressed. Go back to his house and talk to him. Return his clothes.”

“Bones,” Jim whines.

“Don’t do that. Go talk to him and get some closure. And if you’re satisfied with whatever happens over there, you can come right back to your bed and waste the day away.”

Jim can’t tell if that last part is comforting or insulting.

“Look, Jim. You know how I feel about Spock.”

“I actually don’t,” Jim interjects. “Because sometimes you’re threatening to rip his head off and other times you’re spouting sonnets in his honor.”

“It’s a love-hate relationship,” Bones says impatiently. “The point is, he doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark. Yeah, he did a really shitty thing by up-and-leaving you like that, but he deserves closure, too.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Now get your ass up and get dressed.”

 

About an hour later, Jim is standing in front of Spock’s door, paper bag with Spock’s pajamas in one hand, all of his anxiety in the other. And he lifts up the latter. And he knocks.

A few seconds pass before Spock pulls open the door. They both stand there for another few seconds. Then Spock says “Jim” very carefully, like there’s a wall between them that might shatter if he’s too expressive.

Jim wants to smash that wall.

“Hey, Spock.” He holds up the bag of pajamas and holds the anxiety behind his back. “Sorry I ran out on you.”

Spock studies the situation for a moment. Then he takes the bag from Jim’s hand and opens the door wider. “Come in.”

“I feel really bad.” They both make their way in the couch. Jim’s mouth feels sour. “We both agreed to talk but I ran out on you.”

Spock doesn’t say anything.

“Do you, uh. Have any cocoa left?”

“No. I finished it as of yesterday.”

Jim swallows. “I’m really sorry. You can keep talking about why you changed your mind, if you want. I promise I won’t run out on you again.”

Spock looks uneasy.

“Please,” Jim adds.

“Fine,” says Spock. He rests his elbows on his knees and rubs at his ear, which is tinged green. “I had a conversation with my mother about love. Contrary to my earlier belief, she had married my father because she loved him, and he married her for the same reason. Logic was only secondary.”

Jim can’t imagine Ambassador Sarek putting logic second to anything.

“I doubted it, as well,” says Spock quietly, even though Jim hadn’t said a word. “So I asked him about it.” He swallows. “He reminded me that vulcans do, in fact, have emotions--that they are stronger, even, than those of humans, but they run more deeply.”

“Right,” says Jim, not following. Spock, of course, sees right through him.

“In layman’s terms, he reminded me that it does not make me any less vulcan to feel as I do.”

“Oh. When was this?”

“It was in the first week that we were separated.”

“I called you on, like. Saturday. You said you couldn’t find any way to contact me but you had my number. And I called you.”

Spock grimaces. “I deleted your contact. It was an attempt to avoid the inevitable failing of my logical instincts, whence I would contact you. The call, if it was sent on Saturday, was likely ignored. I was in an appointment.”

Jim feels like there’s more to be said here, so he just waits.

“That was my next point. Saturday.” Spock folds his hands together, then unfolds them again. Then folds them back together. “I set an appointment to check my eligibility for kolinahr.”

“Shit, what? Seriously?”

“I assume this means that you remember the significance of kolinahr.”

“Yeah. You talked about it before.” And he did extensive research on it afterward. And stressed about whether or not Spock went through it. It sounded really rough--several years alone in the universe. Who the hell would be able to survive that?

“There is a process that one must go through in order to participate in kolinahr. The results, of course, do not dictate whether or not one can participate, but vulcans consider it important that one knows what they are going into when they enter kolinahr.”

“What process? Do they conduct taroon-ifla or something?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. Is he impressed? Jim hopes he’s impressed. “Yes. The person who did so with me went through kolinahr himself. But apparently…” His voice trails off. Jim chews on his lip. “Apparently my emotions were so strong that they gave him… secondhand emotions, if you will.”

“They what?”

“They made him cry.”

“That’s not possible. Is it?”

Spock just looks at him. Jim gets nervous.

“It is?” he asks again.

“It shouldn’t be,” says Spock, “But it happened.”

“And what did you get from this?”

“I realized that my emotions were powerful. And it might be possible to shove them all down, but it might not be worth it. I do not have to show my emotions, but I have no reason to pretend that they are not there.”

Jim feels immensely pleased.

“Of course,” says Spock, “I did not realize this until several months later.”

Now Jim feels like he wants to slam his face into the floor. “Really, Spock?”

Spock’s ears are significantly greener than before. “As I told you, I was accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy. They called me in front of the council to tell me and they insulted my mother. And I stood in front of them and I thought about everything in that short moment before I replied--I thought about you. I thought about the love between my parents. I thought about the effect my emotions had on a vulcan who succeeded in going through kolinahr. I suddenly regretted everything at once. There was no reason for me to resent my heritage. There was also no reason for me to resent”--he pauses--“You.”

Jim’s throat closes up. “When was this?”

“July.”

“Wait. July? It took you that long to figure this out?”

Spock’s ears are a deep, deep green. “I do not like being insulted, Jim.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I just.” Jim rubs his face. “Spock, I was a fucking disaster when you left. We _didn’t_ part on good terms. We stood in that room and I told you that I loved you and you didn’t say a fucking thing. I was messed up. I drank way too much. We had to go through this entire thing that we called OGOS--Operation Get Over Spock--that helped me get over you. And it took me a long time. You fucked me up.”

“I am sorry, Jim. I know that means little but I _am_ sorry.”

Jim shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe this was a mistake.”

Spock doesn’t say anything.

“Just. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I, uh. I looked you up. And a lot of results came up, so I had to look your dad up. And it said that you’re engaged.”

Spock’s face doesn’t change.

“So I just wanted to know, uh. Whatever happened with that. What happened with T’Pring.”

“T’Pring,” says Spock.

“That’s what I said,” says Jim, before he realizes that Spock is just pondering things out loud. He shuts his mouth, locks it, and throws away the key.

“The relationship between T’Pring and I would have never worked out,” says Spock. “We fit together about as much as… the doctor appreciates logical objections to his so-called witty statements.”

“Jesus. What the hell happened?”

“What happened?” Spock leans back, now, and stretches his arms out on the back of the couch. “I will tell you what happened with T’Pring.”


	27. What Happened with T'Pring

Saturday. Spock struggles to drive home. His hands shake against the wheel, so he flicks on autopilot and concentrates his energy on staying awake.

When he finally gets home, he just sits in the driveway for a good half hour. The coldness in his chest refuses to subside. He presses both hands to his skin, but it will not help cease his shivering.

Eventually he just gives up and climbs out of the car.

He tries to enter the house quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but Amanda and Sybok are both in the kitchen.

He feels a jolt of guilt, then, for not connecting with Amanda like has his brother. Sybok, he is the real rebel of the family in his embrace of emotions. He is the only one who can really relate to Amanda. Spock, who has half of Amanda’s DNA, cannot even come close to that.

They both look up from their meal when Spock pushes open the door. None of them say a word. Amanda holds out a plate with a cinnamon roll on it.

“I’m not hungry,” Spock says, taking it.

“It’s warm.”

Reluctantly, he takes the plate from her.

“Did some research,” says Sybok. “First one-sided taroon-ifla can make you a little chilly.”

Spock picks at the roll as he sinks into one of the empty seats.

“You okay?”

Somehow knowing he will not answer, Amanda says, “You don’t have to tell us anything, Spock. But we’re ready to listen.”

Spock bites into the roll. There is a little too much cinnamon. “I cannot go through with kolinahr.”

Silence for a good long moment. Then, Sybok: “Why?”

“My emotions. They doubt I will be successful.”He completely unravels his roll and takes out the raisins, flicking them onto Sybok’s empty plate. “I hope you are happy.”

“Spock, come on.”

That is certainly a favorite saying of Sybok: ‘come on’. Weak in structure and unclear in meaning. Come onto what?

“I’m sorry,” says Amanda sincerely. “Spock, just. Please remember that this in no way means you are lesser than. Different does not mean worse.”

“I will try again in a few years,” says Spock decidedly. Sybok lets out a long sigh.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Sybok,” Amanda chastises.

“Come on, Mom. You know he’ll be making the biggest mistake of his life.”

Amanda’s gaze darts to Spock. “That’s not my decision to make, and it certainly isn’t yours.”

“You disapprove nonetheless,” says Spock.

“Spock, of course I’m a little sad that you want to get rid of your emotions. I love your emotions. But that’s selfish of me to think that. I want you to be happy, Spock. And if being happy means that you won’t have any emotion at all, then I won’t object.”

“Very well,” says Spock. He pushes the plate away from himself and stands up. “I will take a walk, now.”

“A walk?”

“It is warmer outside,” he says. “Ideally the sun will be effective in sufficiently warming me again.”

“Ideally,” she says.

“Please be safe. Keep your phone on you so I can contact you if I need to.”

“I always have my phone.” Spock lifts it out, shows her, shows the full battery, and then tucks it back into his pocket. Then he walks out the door.

On his walk, he tries not to think about kolinahr. He tries not to think about his failure. He tries not to think about how his emotions were so pathetically strong that he was unfit for kolinahr. It was not the loneliness that held him back, and he was perfect in both mental and physical health. No, he was refused because of something for which no vulcan had been refused: the strength of his emotions.

Spock kicks at a rock and pretends it was because it was in his way.

He is _not_ to think about kolinahr. He is not to think about taloon-ifla. No, he will not think about anything vulcan at all. He will keep his mind blank. He will keep his ears open. He will relax and he will learn as much as he can about the world because, for now, that is all he has. His plans have been shattered and now he is left to pick up the pieces.

“Perhaps,” Spock says to himself, “I can still be successful.”

Speaking out loud is illogical, but Spock feels bitter toward logic at the moment--bitter that it is not strong enough to drown out the emotions; bitter that it is the most important thing in his culture, but only half of his person.

He moves toward the gardens as quickly as he can and sticks to the unshaded pathways. As he walks, he tilts his face toward the sun to let it warm his skin.

He wonders what would cure this chill.

He tries to remember a time when he was warm, before he entered that facility, before that old man moved his fingers to connect with Spock’s qui’lari and the ice took over his entire body.

He remembers Jim, firstly. The hot desire that consumed him when he was laying in bed with him. And he remembers the sun, when he was younger. He remembers the scorching sand of the desert beneath his feet.

He cannot remember anything else. Perhaps that is all he had: Jim, the sun, the ground. Perhaps he has nothing else.

Kolinahr, it would rid him of all of these things. No--nothing would be gone. It would all be there still. He just would not care about it anymore. He would enjoy any of it. Warmth would mean nothing at all to him.

He toes off his shoes and takes a seat under a quercus ruba--its branches and leaves are sparse enough that they do not provide nearly enough shade to blot out the sun, for which Spock is thankful. He closes his eyes. He allows himself to be swallowed by the sunlight. His skin warms, but his insides do not.

He waits for the warmth to go deeper. He waits for what feels like hours.

“We cannot keep doing this.”

A voice floats toward him, familiar but not familiar enough for him to immediately recognize.

“We can. He does not notice. He cannot. He is incapable.”

“You could not have blocked him so completely.”

“I never allowed him to connect. There is no way he can know.”

Spock recognizes this second voice--smooth and as smug as a completely logical voice can be: T’Pring. And the other voice, he knows that one as well. Stonn.

There is a quiet sound, then. Spock remembers, in the connection of taroon-ifla, the sound of kissing. He knows what it must be, now, and he knows what is that quiet sound.

He stands slowly. He leaves his shoes under the tree and he goes toward that quiet sound--in his side, his heart pounds.

He finally finds T’Pring in the shade of a tall hedge. She is standing with Stonn, close. Their foreheads are touching, as are their hands.

This puzzles Spock for a moment, because he knows that the kisses that Vulcans share make no audible sound. Perhaps he heard it because he has a longing for the types of kisses that do make sound--human kisses, wet and desperate and unapologetically loud in its affection.

“T’Pring,” says Spock, unable to think of anything else. She breaks away from Stonn and gives him a look that he cannot decipher.

“Spock. What are you doing here?”

“I was…” Spock searches their faces. “I was walking in the gardens. I heard you.”

“You heard us,” Stonn repeats. “I find that difficult to believe, Spock.”

“Your voices,” says Spock.

“We were not speaking loudly.”

“No, you were not.”

They both look at him.

“This is not allowed,” says Spock. “T’Pring, you and I are engaged.”

“I do not want to be engaged with you.”

“That does not matter. We were engaged as children. We cannot--”

“Yes we can,” she interrupts. “I can claim kal-if-fee.”

“You could, but--”

“But nothing. When comes the time of our wedding, I will claim kal-if-fee.”

“And your champion?”

She meets his gaze, steely. “One day you will feel for someone what I feel for Spock. I understand you have emotions, and while they may be warped beyond measure, you must at least comprehend on a basic level why I prefer Stonn. Someday you will find somebody you prefer, Spock, and that is who I will choose for my champion.”

“I do not understand,” says Spock.

“You will.”

 

Afterward, Spock goes back home. He ignores Sybok and Amanda, who are still waiting in the kitchen, and goes up to his bedroom window, sitting in the tiny little ledge and gazing out.

It is as beautiful as always. The sun, in the far horizon, is setting.

Had he been in the garden that long?

Spock leans against the edge of the window, folding his hands together, and closes his eyes. He tries to recall every moment of his conversation with T’Pring--the way her mouth tilted downward in ill-disguised contempt, the raise of her eyebrow, the way she said that he will someday find somebody that he prefers, like she knows he already found that somebody.

No. No.

Spock rubs at his eyes. There is nobody. What he had with Jim was only temporary--it was a taste of Earth, of culture, of being. And now he is back on Vulcan, and it is time for him to embrace Vulcan traditions.

He knows that it is the most logical path for him to follow, but he cannot help but acknowledge that it is getting harder and harder to suppress the emotion building up inside him.

A knock at the door. Spock does not open his eyes.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

“I am occupied, Sybok.”

Sybok comes in anyway and takes a seat on Spock’s bed. “Ugh. Jesus. What is this mattress made out of? Rocks?”

“It is a mixture of--”

“I didn’t actually care. Sorry. That’s not why I’m here.”

Spock sighs.

“And I, uh. I’m sorry about kolinahr. I know it means a lot to you. I mean, I don’t know _why_ , but--”

Now Spock opens his eyes. “No,” he says. “You would not understand.”

“So explain it to me.”

“You were born one race, Sybok. You rejected it. You do not and cannot comprehend the constant internal battle that I have every day. Likewise, you do not and cannot comprehend the torment with which I had to deal as a child.”

“I saw--”

“You saw. You did not experience.”

Sybok rubs at his face. “Is this why we don’t get along? Because you’re bitter that I rejected Vulcan traditions?” Before Spock can reply, he adds: “Because that was my choice, and you can make the same choice.”

“The difference,” says Spock, “Is that I was never given a choice. People assumed that I was too human to be vulcan and too vulcan to be human. I have never fit in. At least,” he says, “You have a place.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you fit in! Only you can choose who hurts you, Spock!” Sybok rubs harder at his face. “God, just. You don’t have to fit in. You are who you are and fuck anybody who says you need to change.”

“That is the point. I don’t know which me to be!”

“You don’t have to choose one! To assume you have two different selves just because you are of two different races is…” Sybok searches for the word, and seems to find it somewhere in the horizon. “Illogical.”

Spock laughs out loud. It is a harsh, angry sound. He regrets making it. He regrets that this is the second time he has laughed and it was at Sybok. He regrets that he laughed at all near anyone who was not Jim.

Sybok, understandably, looks surprised.

“You speak to _me_ ,” says Spock, shaking his head, “About _logic_. You know as well as I do that my logic has always been flawed. I am incapable of seeing things objectively. I have always been incapable, and, unless I can go through with kolinahr, I will always be incapable. But I do try, and that is more than can be said of you.”

Sybok’s face falls a little, and so do his shoulders. “What happened while you were out?”

“I encountered T’Pring.” Spock crosses his legs, pleased that the argument has ended and he has won. Then he tries to push away that feeling of victory. It feels dirty, shameful. It feels like he hasn’t won anything at all. It feels as if Sybok has somehow found a way to win without Spock knowing,

“Yeah?”

“Yes. She was with Stonn.”

There is a long, stony silence. “With Stonn,” Sybok repeats. “The vulcan boy from--”

“We attended school together, all of us.”

“They weren’t--”

“They have chosen each other.” Spock pulls his legs to his chest, now, and rests his forehead against his knees. “When comes the time, T’Pring will claim kal-if-fee.”

Sybok lets out his breath. “Shit.”

“Indeed.”

“I told Amanda and Sarek that this was a bad idea, getting you engaged.”

“Do not blame them. It is not their fault.”

“Yeah, but I mean. Come on. There could have been something somebody could have done.”

“We are not a good match. It is inevitable that she find something in someone else.”

“You could have been a good match if she had just let you in. I mean, come _on_. You two could have been good together.”

Spock must make a small noise of discontent, because Sybok sits up straighter.

“Wait. You don’t want her either, do you?”

“It does not matter whether or not I want her. If she does not claim kal-if-fee, she will be my mate. If she does not, then the matter will be dealt with. The choice is entirely hers.”

“James, right?”

Spock closes his eyes.

“I thought so. I had to try a little hard to get his name.” Sybok pauses, like Spock will have a response, but when nothing comes, he just continues. “Amanda kept calling him James, but she never calls anybody by their last name. You know her. But Sarek, he’s proper. I just had to ask him a few carefully worded questions and found out that you and Amanda have been talking about James Kirk. James Tiberius Kirk.”

Spock wants to jump out this window and fall into the warm air forever, never hitting the rock bottom but also never having to hear Sybok say Jim’s name again.

“He’s the Kelvin baby, Spock.”

“I know.”

“Wow. I just. I can’t even imagine. That must affect his life every day.”

No. No, the Kelvin was never a common topic of conversation. Sometimes Jim talked about his father--the motorcycle he drove, the music he listened to--as if he knew him, but never did he mention the Kelvin, nor was he ever bitter. And there were never any reporters hassling him. If the Kelvin was affecting Jim, it was silent.

He wishes it would not have been so silent. He wishes more people would be supportive, because then Jim would be able to get out of his home situation and never have to look so sad again.

“Did you love him?” Sybok asks. “ _Do_ you love him?”

“I’ve rid myself of whatever I feel for him,” says Spock. “As for T’Pring, she can wait as long as she needs. She says her champion will be whoever I find to be a more suitable mate for myself.” He huffs. “Let her wait forever.”


	28. Later

“That’s it?”

Spock can barely look at Jim. “That’s it.”

“So nothing is resolved.”

“No.” He brushes a pattern onto his couch with his finger. “Someday, when I return to Vulcan, we can converse again and settle this.”

“You could call her.”

“I could.” Spock quickly changes the subject: “How is everybody? The doctor and Nyota and Pavel and Hikaru?”

“Good. They’re good. Bones graduated pre-med and is finishing up his doctorate at starfleet. Uhura’s still on communications, Chekov thinks he wants to go into nav, and Sulu just got his pilot's license.”

“They are happy, then?”

“You can talk to them yourself.”

“I worry they would reject contact.”

“What? Why?” Jim shakes his head. “Well. Bones is still salty about you leaving like you did, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want to talk to you.”

Spock shifts a little, uncomfortable. What he wouldn’t give for a mug of hot chocolate right now. “I had a feeling they would be angry with me.”

“They aren’t _all_ angry.”

“How I left, Jim, was...wrong. We should have spoken more. Especially after…”

_He tries to remember how it felt, being in that bed, feeling--was it love?_

Jim is blinking very fast. “You had to leave. I get that.”

“I did not have to leave the way I did. I should have told you the truth.”

“The truth?” Jim whispers.

“How I felt. Even the fact that I felt anything at all. I should have told you something.”

“And how did you feel?”

Spock stands up and walks into the kitchen, opening one of the cupboards. Jim doesn’t move from where he is seated. “I realized something when I returned to Vulcan. There is a sort of...peace, I suppose, that one feels in the desert. Vulcan is, of course, not all desert, but much of it is. What isn’t desert is mountains. Tall, towering rocks. This combination, it makes you feel small. Not insignificant, but small. It is a wonderful feeling. I did not recognize how powerful it was until I returned.”

“Why are you telling me all this, Spock?”

Spock digs around in his cupboard until he finds the emergency baking chocolate he has in the back. He pulls it out and starts breaking it into a bowl. “This peace that one feels when being so small, I did not think I could ever find it anywhere else in the universe. It is such a unique feeling. Here on Earth, everything is…” He pours water into a pot and puts the bowl over it, using the movement as an excuse for his silence. “Everything is used. Your Grand Canyon can still fill one with wonder, but it is not an untouched wonder. The beauty of the canyon is not all nature. No, there are paths carved into its walls. There are glass bridges extended across its space. I know it is not unique to humanity, but humans have a way of altering natural beauty for ease of consumption. It is not like that on Vulcan. We change only what is absolutely necessary. If we seek to enjoy natural beauty, we change only ourselves. So being on Vulcan, there is an incredible amount of peace one feels when in nature. It is untouched. It feels as if you are the first one there. This peace, I found it again in you.”

The chocolate begins to melt. Spock pulls out a bamboo spoon and starts stirring it. Jim hasn’t made a sound in a while.

“But, then again,” Spock says, “I am…afraid.” He has not admitted this to anyone--not even himself. “I feel so much around you. That is why I pushed you away so quickly. I was afraid that I was losing myself in you. Sometimes feeling so much is wonderful. I feel...I feel warmth in my chest. Sometimes I feel dizzy. Sometimes I cannot help myself from smiling around you. But there is also...There is cold, too.” Spock slowly reaches up and touches his chest. He can still feel the remnants of that ice right behind his ribs. It is not nearly as bad as it used to be, but it still hurts. “There is cold. There is pain. Sometimes there is a burning, fiery heat. An…anger that I cannot suppress. I feel all of this when I’m with you, and I do not know if it is better or worse than when I do not have you. I am afraid, too, that if I finally tell you how I feel, we will have to…” He lets his voice trail off and he lifts the bamboo spoon out, letting the chocolate drip off the edges.

“Have to what, Spock?” Jim’s voice comes from right behind Spock, so close he can feel Jim’s breath on his ear.

“We will have to fight.” He switches off the stove and turns. Jim’s chest is almost touching his. “How much do you know about kal-if-fee?”

“Um.” Jim’s eyes search Spock’s face. “One part of an arranged marriage can claim it during koon-ut-kal-if-fee if they don’t want to marry whoever they were engaged to.” He lifts his hand up and his fingers hover over Spock’s sleeve, then withdraws. “It’s a...fight to the death.”

“Sometimes, yes.” Spock slides out from between Jim and the counter and moves to the cupboard, pulling out a pot. “Translated literally, it means ‘challenge’, but it really means something more along the lines of…fight of passion, I suppose. The passion comes from plak tow, which--”

“It’s part of pon farr, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Plak tow is, essentially, a blood fever. Kal-if-fee ends when the fever breaks or when one of the contestants dies.”

“Shit.”

Spock pours the chocolate into the pot and starts stirring in a little milk. “T’Pring told me that whoever I chose to be my mate, it is them whom she chose to be her champion. I would have to fight whoever I chose in kal-if-fee.” He tastes the hot chocolate. “Can you pass me a two mugs?”

Jim comes to stand next to him and puts the mugs on the counter.

“I want to tell you exactly how I feel about you. I do not know the exact words to describe the feeling, but I know to what I can compare it.” He reaches up and, very gently, touches Jim’s cheek. “The warmth of the sun on my face. The feeling in my chest when I look at the stars. The rush when you leave the atmosphere. The waves of the ocean lapping at my feet. It is wonderful and beautiful and I feel almost…addicted to you. It frightens me.”

Jim takes in a deep, shuddering breath.

“But,” says Spock, taking his hand back and returning to the cocoa, lifting the pot to split the contents between the two mugs, “I cannot tell you any of that, because that would mean I chose. That would mean that, when I went through pon farr, we would have to go to Vulcan and fight.”

“Spock--”

“Maybe if I could, I would tell you that what I feel is love.” Spock picks up both mugs and gives one to Jim.

“Spock, come on. Just. Fuck T’Pring. Just live your life the way you want.”

“But pon farr--”

“When you have to go through pon farr again--which won’t be for a while, right?--then we can deal with it then. But we don’t have to be _scared_ , Spock. I mean, come on. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“One of us could die,” says Spock. “And pon farr is in a few months. To my understanding, that is not ‘a while’.”

“Wait. A few months?”

“Pon farr is every few months. I will not go back to Vulcan, as I have duties here, so it will be the next pon farr that I will return.”

“So how are you going to deal with pon farr this time?” Jim sips anxiously at his cocoa. “I could, well. I could help you, if you wanted me to. If I could?”

“Mediation should work. I could also attempt to transfer it to somebody else--somebody who has a mate--and have them deal with it. I do not want to tie you down to something that you do not want to--”

“Spock, are you kidding me? I never stopped loving you, man.” Jim sets the mug down and steps closer to Spock, eyes earnest. “I _never_ stopped loving you. I was fucked up and I might have stopped being so consistently messed up but I never stopped loving you. I never stopped waiting for you.”

“You do not know me anymore, Jim.” Spock puts his mug down, too, and tries to back away from Jim. “You do not know how I have changed. I do not know you, either. We are, both of us, strangers.”

“Then we can talk more. You can talk about whatever you were doing on Vulcan. I can talk about OGOS and almost failing high school because of my terrible attendance. It’ll be fun.” Jim takes Spock by the waist and tugs him closer so that their bodies are flush. “You and me, Spock. Nothing to hold us back but the light of the stars.”

“You are incredibly foolish,” says Spock. “You and me, we do do not make any sense. You are entirely feeling and warmth. I am cold logic.”

“You aren’t cold anything, Spock. You should know this by now. You are full of everything good in this universe. And I’ve never felt better than I have with you.” Softly, Jim kisses his mouth. Spock nearly weeps at the feeling of Jim’s lips on his. He has missed this, He has missed this so much. “Come on, Spock. You and me.”

“Okay,” Spock whispers. “We can try.”

{-}


	29. Tuesday

Jim keeps trying to meet up with Spock, but there’s no time. Spock is busy with some top-secret project and his classes and Jim is busy with his own classes. They text each other every now and then, but it isn’t even close to the same thing as speaking face-to-face.

Jim shakes himself out of his thoughts and lifts up a hand to knock on the door in front of him.

“Captain!”

“Hey.” Jim forces a smile and Uhura grins at him.

“Come on in! We haven’t talked in ages.”

Jim laughs a little. The sound is almost pained. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy.”

Uhura pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you’re keeping busy. It’s good for you.”

“Bones must have told you.”

“About Spock? Yeah.”

“Did you know he was here?”

Uhura’s gaze darts away from Jim. “He, ah.”

“Uhura.”

“He teaches a class I’m in.”

“He _what_?”

“He hasn’t been teaching the class for very long! A week, maybe?”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Uhura takes his arm and pulls him away from the foyer. “You were healing, Jim. Please don’t be mad.”

Jim rubs at his face. “He didn’t tell me.”

“He probably doesn’t even know I’m in his class. There are, like. Two hundred people.”

“I can’t believe he’s a _teacher_.”

“Yeah, he is. Really successful. Here, the living room is to your right.”

They both turn in and Chekov woops. Something flies by Jim’s head. “Oops,” Bones says. “Missed.” Jim rolls his eyes.

“What was that for?”

“Heard you’re talking to the hobgoblin again.”

“Spock? Of course I'm talking to him.” Jim lifts the pillow from the ground and throws it back at the couch. “I don’t think the dangerous projectile was necessary.”

“What if he leaves?” Sulu asks. “What then?”

“We’re going to stay in contact.” Jim nudges at Chekov, and the kid scoots over so Jim can sit down. “He’s been through some shit. Figured some shit out. Same as me.”

“How was it seeing him again?” asks Chekov, bending down to grab the bowl of popcorn at the base of the couch.

“It was...I don’t know how to describe it. You know how, when it’s really cold outside and you take a sip of something warm you can feel it sliding down your throat? Like that.”

Everybody looks a little too amused. Bones is the asshole who opens his mouth.

“So, uh. What exactly was sliding down your throat when you saw him?”

“Fuck off.” Jim, faux-angry, grabs a handful of popcorn and starts dropping kernels into his mouth. “Have any of you seen him? Besides Uhura.”

“I did,” says Sulu. “It was yesterday. Didn’t get the chance to talk to him ‘cause he looked pretty busy, but I gotta say. He got _way_ hotter. Like, he was hot before, but now it’s just like. Goddamn.”

“Christ,” says Jim, who agrees but doesn’t want to encourage him.

“I saw him, too,” Chekov adds. “On Sunday. Sulu’s right.”

Jim sighs. “We talked about joining starfleet. I would go into command and he would go into science. I would be the captain and he would be my first officer.”

“So?” says Uhura. “You can still do that.”

“He’s already a commander. There’s no way I’m doing anything.”

“Give it more time,” say Uhura, voice gentle. “You’ll see.”

Jim shrugs and downs another handful of popcorn.

“You know what you could do,” Bones says, “Is try out the Kobayashi Maru.”

“The what?”

“The Kobayashi Maru. It's an old test for command that they brought back for the cadets this year. Anyone can take it.”

“I volunteered for that,” says Uhura. “It looks hard. But if you pass it, you’ll definitely have a head start. Might put you on a good ship.”

“Kobayashi Maru.” Jim repeats the words slowly, tasting them.

“It’ll be fun,” Bones says easily. “I can volunteer, too, so you can have a few friendly faces in the room.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re a friendly anything--”

“Oh, shut up. Ass.”

JIm laughs and reaches for the remote.

“So?” Chekov asks. “Are you gonna do it?”

“Yeah, I can give it a try.” There is, of course, a part of him that knows he’ll probably fail, but he wants to prove that part of himself wrong. He spent too long letting his fear hold him bak.

He isn’t going to let that happen again.

{-}

<have you heard of the kobayashi maru?>

<Yes.>

<what do you know about it?>

<It is a simulation designed to test starfleet cadets of their ability to function under pressure. It also can give one great insight into the cadet’s command decision-making.>

<is it hard?>

<So far, it is impossible to succeed in the simulated mission, Jim.>

<sounds like fun :)>


	30. Wednesday

“Are you happy, Spock?” Jim’s hand presses a trail of kisses along Spock’s collarbone.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even hesitate.”

“No. I am happy with you, Jim.”

Jim pulls himself up and kisses Spock’s mouth. “I’m happy with you, Spock. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

“I know.” Spock is finding it difficult to type with Jim sprawled across him, but he finds he does not really mind. “Jim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yesterday you messaged me about the Kobayashi Maru. May I inquire why?”

“I’m taking it.”

Spock suddenly feels queasy. “Oh.”

“Why? You think it’s a bad idea?”

“No. Not at all. I think you would do excellently. I can come and watch, if you want.”

“Really? That’d be awesome. Bones and Uhura said they’d come, too. I think they’re volunteering. Which reminds me!” Jim twists around suddenly, knocking the computer off of Spock’s lap. “Sorry. But Uhura is in your class!”

“Is she?” Spock bends down and grabs the computer off the ground, checking it for cracks. “There is a large attendance sheet. I was advised not to bother with checking to see if everybody was present.”

“You didn’t tell me you were teaching anything.”

“I did not deem it important enough to mention in one of our conversations.”

“What do you teach?”

“It is a class exploring aural sensitivity and the art of examining subspace transmissions.”

Jim twists around again, once more knocking the computer to the ground.

“Jim,” Spock sighs, reaching for it. “You have to stop moving so suddenly.”

“Sorry. I get excited. You’re working on communications, then?”

“In a way, yes.”

“That sounds… really complicated. And cool. Like. I don’t think I would ever be able to understand any of that but it’s cool. Is it very interesting?”

“I enjoy it.” There’s a thin crack running along the side of Spock’s screen. He rubs his fingers on it, a little concerned.

“Uhura says you’re a really good teacher,” Jim offers. Spock raises an eyebrow.

“I have yet to actually teach anything. The class has so far been only introductory.”

“Okay, then. I lied. I just assumed you’re a really good teacher.”

Spock hums his reply and rubs a little harder at the thin crack, as if he can just rub it right away.

“Can I come visit your class sometime?”

“I cannot imagine you would enjoy the complexities of subspace transmissions. There is much repetition of incomprehensible noises and hour-long discussions about said incomprehensible noises. If you feel that you would--”

“Spock, I meant to visit you. To just, I don’t know. Support you.”

“Oh. Then you are welcome, Jim. I can reserve as seat for you in the front.”

“Cool.” Jim curls into Spock’s side, making a contented noise. “Spock.”

“Yes, Jim.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Jim grins up at him. “You’ve never said that to me before. Not really.”

“It is true.”

“It’s really nice hearing it out loud. What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon. Do you need to be somewhere?”

“I set up my appointment to take the Kobayashi Maru today.”

“What time?”

“Three-ish? I think?”

“I have a class at that time, so I will not be able to attend. My apologies.”

“It’s okay. I’ll text you and let you know how it goes. And hey.” He laughs a little, twining their fingers together. “If I fail, you can always come to the next one.”

“Most people do not take the Kobayashi Maru twice.”

“You know as well as I do that I’m not most people.”

“Yes. Indeed I do.” Spock studies their joined hands for a moment. “Perhaps we should invest in gloves.”

“What? Why?”

“You told me once that joining hands is a way of celebrating affection. I think I would like to try that.”

“Alright. Let’s get gloves, then.”

“We are not moving too quickly, are we?”

“Relationship-wise? I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“Moving slowly is for careful people. THat’s notme. Plus I think we wasted too much time anyway. We were separated for, what. Two years? Two and a half? These isn’t any use in pretending we’re anything less than we are.”

“You are correct, Jim. As per usual.”

Jim starts laughing. “You’re still so full of shit.”

“You were right about us, Jim. You have always been right about us.”

“I thought you and Bones were sleeping together.”

Spock cannot help but start laughing, too. “I forgot about that. I still find it hard to believe that you thought we were in any way involved.”

“In my defense, you spent a lot of time together. So.”

“We were working on his academic assignments.”

“My brain is suspicious and paranoid when it comes to liking people and people liking me back.”

“You will not have to worry about that anymore. I have finally…” Spock searches for the words. “I have finally gotten my shit together.”

Jim snorts.

“I missed you,” says Spock softly, rubbing his thumb against the skin of Jim’s hand. “I thought I would be fine if I just concentrated on the logical parts of life, but coming back here? Seeing you? It is so much easier to be alive.”

“Jesus, Spock.” Jim nudges the computer off of Spock’s lap and wraps around him. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

{-}

“So?” Jim bounces up to Bones and Uhura, who are peeling off their Kobayashi Maru simulation uniforms. “Also, you look both very hot and very sharp.”

“I know,” says Bones, just as Uhura says, “So what?”

“Oh, you know. How’d I do? You know this shit, right?”

“Captain,” says Uhura, “You rescued all the survivors from the Kobayashi Maru and then got everybody--yourself, your crew, and the crew of the Kobayashi Maru--killed. So.”

“Yeah, but is that passing?”

“Dammit, Jim,” says Bones. He scratches at his chest and then digs through his locker for his uniform. “You know this is a test, right? Not a fuckin’, I don’t know. Participation award?”

“Spock says it was a test of decision-making,” Jim moans. He picks up Uhura’s shirt where she dropped it and hands it over to her. “So, like. I made the decision to save them, and that’s important, right?”

“You made the decision to enter the neutral zone and rescue the people without considering the loss of your entire crew.” Uhura straps on her bra and takes the shirt, muttering a quick thank you. “That’s a problem.”

“Okay, but I saved the people, right?”

“No. They all died.”

“I got them off the ship, though.”

“But they all _died_.”

“But they had like. A few seconds at least where they thought they were going to be okay. Right?”

Bones snaps his locker shut and twists the lock. “This is about the Kelvin, isn’t it?”

“What? No.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself through the Kobayashi Maru, Jim.”

“You know what Pike said? He said ‘I dare you to do better’. I’m trying to do better here, Bones. Come on. I _need_ to do better.”

“No you don’t.”

“Even if you have to,” says Uhura, “Come on, Jim. You’re still in the academy. You’ve got ages to accomplish what your dad did. And you have ages to think it through and, you know. Not die.”

“My dad didn’t die because he didn’t think things through.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that, sorry. I just meant that, with your brains and the preparedness of the fleet today, there’s no way that can happen again.”

“Yeah.” Jim toes at the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“You’ll do good, Captain,” says Uhura, slinging an arm around his shoulders, “You’ll do good. I promise.”

{-}


	31. Thursday

Spock, early in the morning, goes to the academy to meet with the Kobayashi Maru operators.They sit around an elongated, oval-shaped table that is covered with folders and assorted papers.

“What is all of this?”

“Test results.” Wiggs groans and drops his head on the table. His forehead makes a thumping noise when it makes contact with the wood. “So many people have taken the test. It’s nonstop.”

“You are not testing now,” Spock points out.

“Yeah, well. There’s a mandatory gathering somewhere in the hall.”

“It’s about what to do if there’s an emergency and they need to all get suddenly drafted,” says Kross.

“I did not hear about that.”

“You’ve already graduated, Commander. They just sent us an email.”

Spock pulls out his phone and checks it. “Oh. I see it, now. I suppose I’m assigned to the Enterprise.” That was the same ship Pike was going on when he met him all those years ago.

“That’s a good ship,” says Wiggs. “Do you want to sit down?”

Spock takes a seat. “What are we here to discuss?”

“The results of the Kobayashi Maru. There are so many. We were hoping you were going to be able to interpret some of them.”

Spock tries not to scan the table for Jim’s name.

“Get this,” says Wiggs. “Fucking James Tiberius Kirk took the test. And he signed up for another one tonight.”

“ _What_?” Kross snatches the paper that Wiggs is holding and looks it over. “Holy shit! Spock, look at this.”

“I… should not.”

“Why not?”

“I am...close with Jim.”

“Oh.” Kross wiggles his eyebrows. “Are you now.”

“Anyway,” says Wiggs. “It doesn’t matter if you know or not. He went for the Kobayashi Marun immediately. Like, we thought he would at least hesitate when he heard that the warbirds were there, but nope. He’s a sucker for saving people.”

Spock suppresses the smile that he feels tugging at his mouth. Of course Jim would always want to save people. Even if it might mean he beat the simulation--even though it was only a simulation--Jim wanted to save people. He is so incredible.

“Although,” Wiggs adds, “You probably shouldn’t tell him that you programmed the Kobayashi Maru simulation. Less of a chance for, you know. People to suspect that you’re showing favoritism. It’s important not to show favoritism. Especially with a test as important as this one.”

“I understand,” Spock says. “I will not tell him.” He picks up another packet of papers. “This should not take long.”

“No offense, Commander, but that’s bullshit.”

 

When he returns home, he finds Jim fast asleep in his bed. Gently, Spock touches his shoulder. “Jim.”

Jim grumbles.

“Do you want coffee? I bought some when we reunited.”

“Yeah. Coffee, cool. Cool.”

“Do you want anything in it?”

“I want it… in a mug.”

“Yes, but.” Spock stops when he realizes that there really isn’t any use in trying to wake him up. It takes Jim at least three cups of coffee before he is able to drag himself out of bed.

“I’m going back to, uh. Take the Kobayashi Maru.”

“Do you think you will pass?”

“I don’t know. I want to save the people. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got everybody killed in the last one, and I just. I don’t know. There has to be some way to beat it, right?”

Spock just looks at him.

“Hey. You wanna come hang out with everybody until me and Bones and Uhura have to go to the Kobayashi Maru simulation?”

“I would be willing to do that, yes.”

Entering Nyota’s house is a bit of an experience.

Even though Spock has seen Nyota multiple times, as he has a class with her--even though he has spoken to her directly to congratulate her on her aural sensitivity and her ability to identify sonic anomalies in subspace transmission tests--she flies into his arms and gives one of the tightest hugs of his life.

“Nyota,” he says, coughing a little. “As always, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“Shut up, Spock.” She kisses him on the cheek, grinning. “Look at you. You’re a teacher! Holy shit!”

“You are in one of my classes.”

“Professionalism,” she says casually. “We can’t let people think that you think I’m amazing just because we’re friends.”

“No, we cannot have that.”

Sulu comes closer. His face, like those faces around him, has gotten more angular. His eyes seem sharper but still reflect the same kindness that Spock always saw in them. “Spock,” he says, hugging him. “Good to see you again. You got hotter.”

“I… thank you.”

Chekov yanks Sulu away and promptly starts crying and clinging to Spock.

“Oh,” says Spock, unable to think of anything else.

“Christ,” says Doctor Mccoy, coming into the entryway with a beer hanging from one hand, “Call off the waterworks, kid. This is what I get when I hang out with seventeen-year-olds.”

“Seventeen?” Shocked, Spock pulls away from Chekov for a moment. “You were… wait. There is not any way you were only thirteen.”

“Yeah. I looked old for my age then. But I still look fourteen now.”

“I do not think so. I think you look like a solid sixteen.”

Chekov laughs. “Thanks, man. You know--”

“Age deception was invented in Russia?”

“Yes! Exactly.”

“At this point, it would not surprise me.”

Jim gives Spock a little smile that somehow says “I love you” as loudly as if he voiced it. “Let’s go sit in the living room,” he says loudly. “Did you make some popcorn?”

“Sure. Three kinds.”

“Three kinds! Holy shit!” Jim grabs Spock’s hand--Spock hisses at the contact--and pulls him into another room, where there is a modest arrangement of a cheap couch and a television mounted on the wall. Jim flops onto the floor, dragging Spock down with him, Sulu and Nyota and Bones squeezed onto the couch, and Chekov perched himself on the arm next to Sulu. They all spend some time talking and Spock tries to stay quiet for most of it, just watching Jim with his friends.

Then a couple hours later, Jim and Nyota and Doctor Mccoy all get up and kiss everybody goodbye (Jim kisses Spock, Nyota kisses everybody, Doctor Mccoy flips them off) and leave. Jim apologizes that he did not invite anybody else along, but “Come on, Spock. I mean. You’d distract me. Sorry.”

“I understand, Jim. Good, uh. Good luck.”

Spock joins Sulu and Chekov on the couch--Chekov curls into his side and Sulu casually slings an arm around his shoulders. Spock cannot help but notice they are both more affectionate than when he first knew them, and he supposes it must be because they know him better, now.

“You and the captain,” Chekov says, flicking through the channels, “You’re together now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” But Spock does not wish to talk about himself or his relationship with Jim. He is afraid that there is something fragile about them that he has not yet noticed, and, if he talks about them too much, he will break that fragile thing. “What about yourself? How are you finding the academy?”

Chekov talks about, for a few minutes, what it is like to be so young on the campus, and then goes into great lengths the wonders of his navigation classes. Afterward, Sulu talks about what it was like to fly for the first time--“It was just on simulator but it felt so _real_ , you know?”--and then they turn to Spock again and they ask how he’s doing.

“Me?” Spock smiles over at them, and he can tell they are shocked by this open display of emotion. “I have never been better.”

{-}


	32. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of these lines aren't mine. Like the one from parks and rec you know the one. And then most of the lines from the kobayashi maru scene are like. Copied from the transcript ngl

Jim feels like shit.

Of course, he doesn’t feel nearly as bad as he used to get--fuck, now he has Spock and he’s doing pretty great in school (if he does so say himself) and he’s still good friends with Bones and Uhura and Chekov and Sulu and he isn’t afraid to go home at night, so there is a lot keeping him afloat, but _wow_ he feels like shit.

He failed a second time. Most people don’t even take it twice but he _failed_ twice. Everybody died. Again.

He thought he’d be tempted, going into the simulation, to maybe do things differently. That he’d prepare himself and his crew and his ship (he gets a little shiver every time he thinks about that-- _his_ ship. _His_ crew.) before entering the neutral zone, but nope. As soon as he got that goddamn distress call, he just dove right in.

He should probably work on that. But also he’s always been a reckless and impulsive piece of shit, so.

Jim opens up his computer and clicks on Bones’s and Spock’s names. They both answer almost immediately.

“Jim,” they say, almost at the same time, and then squint at each other. Well, Bones squints, and Spock raises his left eyebrow.

“Hey, guys.”

“You doin’ okay?”

“Can you meet me at the pool? I’m kinda feeling down.”

Spock looks down and Jim realizes he’s checking his schedule.

“Fuck. Are you busy, Spock? You don’t have to come.”

“Nonsense. I just called in a sub for my class.”

“You can do that this soon before class?”

“Well, _I_ can. I’m too valuable to fire.”

That makes Jim smile. “That’s true.”

“Christ, do I have to listen to this? I’ll meet you at the pool, Jim. Bones out.”

Spock’s face gets bigger, filling in the space where Bones was before his face disappeared. Jim smiles and traces the outline of Spock’s eyes with his fingertips. “Spock, I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Jim. Is there something you would like to discuss?”

“I’ll tell you at the pool.” Jim’s hand drops down and he reaches for his boots.

“Is this about the Kobayashi Maru?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

“Okay. I will meet you there, then. Goodbye, Jim.”

“Bye.” Jim switches off the call and stands up, turning to leave. There’s a mirror hanging next to the door, and Jim stops when he catches his reflection.

There are rings under his eyes from how little sleep he gets. His hair is mussed and sticking in every direction. His uniform is wrinkled in such a way that makes it look like it could never get neat again. This was all typical Jim fashion, he knew. There wasn’t really anything different from when he was in high school but it...well, it felt different.

He leans a little closer, trying to figure out exactly what that was. He was older, certainly, and it showed in his face and his shoulders, especially. But it was really his eyes that were different. The same color, the same shade. But they were brighter somehow. Happier.

Even when Jim felt like shit, he felt better than what his best used to be. That meant things were getting better.

That meant, Jim reasoned as he pulled open the door, that things were going to be okay.

 

When he arrives, Spock is already in the pool and Bones is sitting on the edge, feet dangling into the water. They chose the same pool Jim and Spock sat at when they reunited, Jim noticed--the pool that had the perfect view of Vulcan around midnight. Of course, it was about three in the morning now, and Vulcan was long out of view, but they chose it nonetheless. Fuck, Jim was already feeling a little better. He was so goddamn lucky to have them.

He strips off his clothes and slips into the pool. None of them really say anything. Neither Bones nor Spock ask Jim if he’s ever going to talk about why he made them come here at a god-awful early hour. They just swim and Spock paddles closer a few times to wrap Jim in an all-consuming kiss and Bones makes disgusted noises.

Then things get competitive. Bones makes some offhand comment that he would be able to beat Spock in a swimming race, and Spock made some offhand reply that basically said Bones was full of it, which made Bones dive in and challenge Spock to a race. As they splash across the length of the pool, Jim has a breath-holding contest with himself and thinks about what keeps going wrong with the Kobayashi Maru.

“I just.” Jim comes up for air and combs his fingers through his hair, squeezing the water out. “I don’t get it. What am I supposed to do? Not rescue them? That’s bullshit.”

Spock stops swimming to answer him: “The Kobayashi Maru is meant to be a no-win scenario, Jim.”

Jim smiles. “I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

Bones touches the wall and starts whooping. “I won! _Told_ you, asshole!”

Spock rolls his eyes. “Fuck off. I was talking to Jim.”

Both Bones and Jim pause.

“Did you...just tell Bones to fuck off?” Jim asks, covering his laughter with the palm of his hand.

“No.” Spock ducks under the water for a second to get the hair out of his eyes. “I have never been anything but polite to Leonard.”

“I’m gonna punch him,” says Bones decidedly after another moment of silence.

“Don’t punch him,” says Jim. “He’s done nothing wrong, ever, in his entire life. Also you cheated Bones, so--”

His laughter is cut off as Bones pushes them both underwater. When he comes back up, he knows exactly how to beat the Kobayashi Maru.

{-}

Spock goes with Jim to the simulation room. Jim figures Spock can be his lucky charm--“not logical”--“I don’t give a shit, Spock”--so Spock just tells him that he’ll watch from the observation room.

“Why don’t you volunteer? They probably need people and it’ll look good on your resume.”

Spock gives him two kisses: one on his mouth, one on his fingers. “I am not allowed to volunteer. It is a conflict of interest.”

“What? Why? What does that mean?”

“I will see you after the test, Jim. I hope you are more successful this time.”

“Oh, I _will_ be.”

Spock does not know what this means, but as he watches Jim on the floor, he begins to understand. He _oozes_ confidence. He leans back in the Captain’s chair, munching on a crisp green apple, propping one leg on top of another with a huge grin on his face.

Spock watches him carefully--he responds the same to everything. He demands they enter the neutral zone. He orders the Kobayashi crew to be transported onto his med bay. But when things start going wrong, he barely has a reaction.

“Two Klingon vessels have entered the neutral zone and are locking weapons on us,” Dr Mccoy says, tapping at the screen in front of him in makeshift busy work.

“That’s okay.”

Dr Mccoy raises an eyebrow. “That’s okay?” he repeats.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

The instructors next to Spock bristle: “Did he say don’t worry about it?” and “Is he not taking the simulation seriously?”

Spock barely hears anything else that occurs. He presses himself against the glass, searching for answers in Jim’s eyes.

The light’s flicker.

“Arm photons,” says Jim calmly. “Prepare to fire on the Klingon warbirds.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jim, their shields are up.”

“Are they?”

Dr Mccoy taps on his screen and his brow creases. “No. They’re not.”

“Fire on all enemy ships. One photon each should do it, so don’t waste ammunition.”

“Target locked and acquired on all warbirds. Firing.”

Spock watches as each simulated warbird explodes without delay.

“All ships destroyed, Captain,” says one of the cadets.

“Begin rescue of the stranded crew.” Jim stands up and beams up at the observation deck. “So, we’ve managed to eliminate all enemy ships, no one onboard was injured, and the successful rescue of the Kobayashi Maru crew is… underway.” And he finishes off his apple with a satisfied lick between his fingers. A shiver runs through Spock.

“How the hell,” says Wiggs, “Did that kid beat your test?”

Something flickers inside of Spock. It is pride, he realizes--pride that his best friend in the entire world, his love, his _t’hy’la_ \--has beat the test that he designed.

They certainly have graduated from their chess games, haven’t they?

He folds his hands behind his back and settles his face into something relaxed and emotionless. “I do not know,” he says.

{-}


	33. Saturday

They’re all called to the Grand Hall for a mandatory meeting--it was weird, since they’d just had a mandatory meeting last week, but Jim meets with Bones anyway and they go to sit up in the bleachers.

“This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter,” says one of the councilmen--Barnett or something. Jim can’t remember. “James T. Kirk, step forward.”

Jim’s stomach drops down seventy-four floors at least. Bones, next to him, nudges his leg. He feels himself rise. Feels himself straighten his uniform. Feels himself walk down the steps to the podium at the front.

“Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to the council suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation One-Seven point three of the Starfleet Code. Is there anything you care to say before we begin, sir?”

Jim swallows hard. His heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his chest. “Yes. I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly.”

Somebody to his left rises from the audience. Dark gray uniform. Dark hair. Pale skin with a greenish tinge.

Oh, fuck no.

“Step forward, please,” says Barnett. “This is Commander Spock. He’s one of our most distinguished graduates. He’s responsible for coding the Kobayashi Maru. Commander?”

Spock steps in front of the podium and looks at Jim coolly. There’s a weird sparkle in his eye that Jim doesn’t know how to interpret. “Cadet Kirk,” he says, “You somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine to the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test.”

Kirk tries not to let a smile twist his mouth. God, this is just. It’s so _Spock_. The whole emotionless thing that he used to fall for, but he can see something in his eyes still, because no matter how much Spock can erase the emotion from his face, he cannot erase it from his eyes. “Your point being?”

“In academic vernacular,” says Spock, lifting one of his perfect eyebrows, “You cheated.”

“Let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to. The test itself is a cheat, isn’t it? You programmed it to be unwinnable.”

_It’s a no-win scenario._

Jim wants to laugh. Spock probably wasn’t allowed to tell him that he was the programmer, but goddamn he was the entire reason Jim passed. No-win scenario, Jim’s ass.

“Precisely,” says Spock. “Which is why this meeting was called. You managed to beat the impossible.”

Jim doesn’t really know what to say to this. And then he decides to be an ass. “I don’t believe in no-win scenarios. And I certainly don’t like to lose.”

Spock puts his hands on the podium, wrapping his long fingers along the edges. Jim tries not to look at those fingers. Before Spock, he didn’t really think about hands a lot. But, shit. After Spock, he constantly thought about hands.

“You violated the rules,” Spock continues, “And I believe you also failed to understand the principle lesson, but, as the programmer of the Kobayashi Maru simulation, I must congratulate you on your creativity and original thinking. Even I did not consider reprogramming to be an option.”

All the air in Jim’s lungs rushes out at once.

“As you are the first person to pass the Kobayashi Maru test, the Academy is prepared to give to you a commendation for your original thinking.”

Wait. What?

Before Jim can say something, somebody in an aide’s uniform is going up to Barnett and handing him something, whispering urgently. Barnett nods and turns back toward the audience. “We’ve received a distress call from Vulcan. With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian system, I hereby order all cadets to report to Hangar One immediately. Dismissed.”

Jim whirls toward Spock--distress call from Vulcan. This couldn’t be real. He catches a glimpse of Spock’s face--pale, pale green, eyes wide and hands shaking--but he can’t get any closer, because the space between them is filled by a sea of red, and they’re both swallowed by the storm.


	34. Epilogue

The planet the USS Enterprise docks at is “of arctic characteristics” (Spock’s words). Bones immediately starts complaining because he’s a delicate Southern flower, but Jim loves it. Apparently it’s almost constantly snowing here--that means ice. That means ice skating.

“I’m going out,” Jim announces when he arrives on the bridge.

“Captain on the bridge,” says Uhura, then: “Big plans, huh?”

“I’m going ice skating.” He looks around the empty room. “Where is everybody?”

“On leave already.” Uhura flips a few switches on her control board. “We were making bets on how long it would take for you to finally leave the ship.”

Jim drops into his chair. “Well? Who won?”

“Scotty, if you leave in the next ten minutes. But, the half hour after that, it’s Chekov.”

“How long do I have to wait for Spock?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

Jim laughs. “Okay, well. I have to go and bundle up. Why isn’t anybody giving _you_ shit for sticking around?”

“Because I didn’t stay on the ship the last four times we had shore leave,” Uhura says, giving Jim a look. “And I’m actually doing something, whereas you stick around just because you feel guilty if you leave.”

“Have you confirmed our appointment with the Vulcan ambassadors?”

“Jim. You know everything’s ready. We’re prepared for almost every disaster in the book and our planner’s full for the next two and a half years. Go have fun. You deserve it.”

Jim huffs. “Fine. But join us when you’re done doing whatever you’re doing, okay? That’s an order, lieutenant.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Jim walks back to his quarters, tapping his PADD against his hand and humming. He hasn’t left the ship for personal reasons in a long time--it wasn’t really that he couldn’t enjoy himself without working. It was more… well. Anything and everything that happened on the Enterprise was Jim’s responsibility. It felt like he was abandoning a child. Or a puppy.

He presses the button on the side of his door and almost runs headfirst into the person coming out.

“Mister Spock!” He stumbles backward for a moment and then beams at his first officer. “Why aren’t you out partying with everybody else?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Why are _you_ not out?”

“I was just about to leave.” Jim pauses. “Why were you in my room?”

“I was waiting for you.” Spock turns, then, and walks back into the main space, stopping just before he reaches Jim’s mattress. “We have both of us been quite consistently busy.”

“Yeah, well, we--” Jim’s words get cut off when their mouths crash together. “Oh.”

“Shut up, Jim,” Spock growls.

“I was thinking about going ice skating,” Jim says, gasping when Spock sucks at a spot on his neck. “You and me? We could bundle up and I don’t know if you’ve ever been skating but--”

“Fine. But right now, I am going to kiss every inch of your body and you’re going to kiss me back because it has been _too_ long since we’ve touched.”

“I’m up for that, Mister Spock.”

 

They take a shower together afterward and then stand together in Jim’s closet, toweling off.

“Cold outside,” says Jim, sifting through the winter section.

“Yes.” Spock examines his nails. “You said something about skating.”

“Yeah. Ice skating. Ever done it before?”

The look Spock gives him makes Jim laugh. “I grew up on a desert planet, Jim. The only things that freeze are water when we put it in coolers.”

“Right. I knew that.”

Spock nuzzles Jim’s neck. “I would encourage you to stay on the ship so we could spend more time together, but you deserve a break. You deserve to...skate on ice, if that is what you desire.”

Jim laughs at the amount of distaste with which Spock says ‘skate on ice’. “It’s fun, Spock. I promise.”

“I find it difficult to believe you, Captain.”

Spock never took to calling Jim ‘Captain’ when it was just a nickname. But, as soon as it became his official rank, Spock seemed to prefer it to all other names. “It’s the truth,” Jim says. He pulls out his favorite sweater and runs his fingers for a moment over its frayed edges.

“Is that my old sweater?” Spock asks, reaching over to touch it.

“Yeah.”

“You kept it?”

“It’s so soft, Spock.”

Spock lifts his eyebrow. “I can always get you more. The trees from which we derived the fabric are abundant on New Vulcan, now. It should not be difficult to acquire--”

“It isn’t just how soft it is, Mister Spock,” says Jim, who reminds himself to definitely bring up this topic so he can get more sweaters. “It’s sentimentality.”

“Sentimentality is fondness of objects to which memories are tied. Why not just be fond of the memories?”

“It helps if you can remember with all of your senses.” Jim brings the sweater to his nose and inhales it. Once, it smelled like Spock. Now it smells like his closet. “Do you remember when you gave this to me?”

“Of course I remember, Captain. I gave it to you after we stargazed.”

“We’d only known each other for a few days.” Jim hangs the sweater back up but can’t help gazing at it a little more. “I already loved you.”

Spock’s fingers touch his gently. “You are foolish,” Spock says, “To hold onto such things.” But there’s a smile on his face that says just the opposite. He nods toward the closet. “What should we wear?”

“Layers are important. If you dress too warmly without layers, then you’re going to be in hell every time you step a foot inside.”

“In hell,” Spock repeats. Jim knows he’s going to make some snappy remark about the lack of logic in believing somebody in a fictional place would ever be interested in beaming them down if they set foot inside, so he hurriedly moves the conversation along.

“Right. You layer so you can take them off if you get too hot.”

“I grew up in three hundred and sixteen degree heat, Jim.”

“Three-- _what_?”

“Kelvin, Jim.”

“Oh.” Jim starts to laugh. “That was. Wow that was scary.”

“Approximately forty-three degrees celsius, or one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit.”

“I’m still horrified.”

Spock shrugs. “I am used to the heat. I am, however, wary of the cold.”

“Bones says you’ll last longer than the rest of us in the cold.”

“I will certainly last longer than _he_ will.”

Jim hands him a pair of pants, a t-shirt, a sweater, a vest, and a jacket. “You should’a seen him when he walked out of here.”

“I would not have selected the word ‘walked’.” Spock examines all of these clothes and then pulls on the shirt. “I think ‘waddled’ is more appropriate.”

Jim snorts. “He looked like a marshmallow. I don’t think he could put his arms down.” Bones had been very grumpy when they pulled into port--made some comments like ‘dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a penguin!’ and ‘dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a (insert word that probably means someone who studies cold things. Jim didn’t pay attention and didn’t super care because he was laughing too much at Bones’s expression when he stepped into the snow)’.

“We will not look like that, will we?”

“Nah. Your body temperature runs higher and I’m pretty much used to the cold. I _like_ being cold. So we’re going to be reasonable in our attire.”

“Do we not have reasonably-sized insulated clothing?”

“Yeah. I may or may not have hidden some of it from Bones. But, even if I didn’t, I don’t think he would have recognized it. Hell, he grabbed one of those medical blankets before he walked toward the insulated clothes closet.”

Spock buttons up his vest and then drapes the jacket over his arm. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. One sec.” He digs into one of his drawers and takes out a scarf, a hat, and a pair of gloves for each of them. “Here. Now we’re ready.”

 

They arrive at the rink and see that most of the crew--including Uhura--is already there. Jim finds he is immensely proud of all of them, and the wonderful mix of red and blue and yellow spinning across the ice is probably the second prettiest thing Jim has ever seen in his life.

A hand wraps around his and Jim looks up. Spock smiles at him.

“Things are better, Mister Spock,” Jim says quietly.

“Yes, Captain. Indeed they are.”

They go to the counter together, still holding hands, and order a pair of skates. As they walk to the bench to strap them on, Uhura, Chekov, Scotty, Sulu, Bones, and Jaylah show up.

“Damn,” Scotty says, licking at the ice cream cone in his hand. “I guess Spock won.”

“What?”

“Spock was very specific,” Uhura says. “You would plan to leave when Scotty predicted it, but you would show up an hour later with him in matching outfits.”

Jim looks at Spock, who somehow manages to look smug without moving a single muscle on his face. “Damn,” he says. “You’re good.”

“I know you, Jim.”

“Don’t let him fool you.” Bones, still bundled up, grumpily drops onto the bench next to Spock. “He just fucked Jim until it was time to leave.”

“Well,” says Jim, and then doesn’t continue. Bones makes a gagging noise. “You’re the one who brought it up, Bones.”

“I think it’s cheating. He has too much control over you.”

“Nonsense,” says Spock. He finishes lacing up his skates and then twists his feet around, examining every side of them. “I am the chief of the science division and first officer. Jim is the captain. I have no control over him.”

“Bull _shit_.” Chekov tugs his cap down so it fits over his head more snugly. Apparently his curls make it pop up every few seconds. “Jim would do anything for you and you know it.”

“Hopefully,” says Spock, “We will not have to find out exactly how much he would do.” Then he stands and offers his hand. “Shall we skate, Jim?”

Jim grins. “We shall.” He lets Spock pull him up and they walk together, carefully, to the ice. The crew falls behind them.

Jim expects Spock to step onto the ice slowly, to stumble, to perhaps fall and make a fool of himself and Jim will get to watch those pointed ears turn green with poorly-disguised shame. But no. Instead, Spock steps onto the ice with extraordinary gracefulness, and, with Jim next to him, he does a dramatic little spin.

His cheeks are flushed and his stupid face is grinning.

“Shit,” says Jim. “You lied to me.”

“There was an ice skating rink at the academy,” Spock says. “I lived there for several years. Of course I know how to skate.”

“I hate you.”

Spock pulls him into a kiss. “No you don’t.”

Somebody whistles. Jim flips them off. He doesn’t super care that he's the captain and they're the crew and that he should probably be a little more professional.

“You and me,” Spock says softly, gloved finger tracing the outline of Jim’s cheekbone. “You and me, we are going to explore the whole goddamn universe.”

“Those are big dreams, Mister Spock.” Jim smiles and presses his face into Spock’s hand.

“They are not dreams, Captain. They are proclamations.”

“Then they’re big-ass proclamations.”

“Anything is possible when we are together, Captain. I refuse to believe anything else.” He slides his glove off and then takes Jim’s chin and tilts it upward, so that Jim is looking at the sky, and Spock’s fingers are connected with Jim’s qui’lari. He feels an overwhelming sense of love, then, as well as wonder and happiness and something else that swells warm in his chest, and he knows all of these feelings are Spock’s, unfiltered and wonderfully strong. “We are limitless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super sad that this is over but also I may get a hold on my life now that I don't have to post a chapter every single day.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking through with me on this and commenting on every chapter. Your support really kept me going and helped make what was supposed to be a ~20000 into an over 60000-word fic. It was, well. It was really fucking hard but I'm quite happy with the outcome and I hope you all are too.


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